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MY WAR DIARY 




The church and school at Les Aulneaux 



MY WAR DIARY 



BY 
T)w^ MARY KING WADDINGTON 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
1917 






Copyright, 1915, 1916, 1917, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



Published September, 1917 



SEP l.2-i9l7 




©GLA47342-8 



PREFACE 

This simple, every-day record of the experi- 
ences through which one French family has lived 
since August, 19 14, may seem at first sight a charm- 
ing, but not very important contribution to the 
literature of the war. But if we accept Henry 
Cabot Lodge's dictum that **one fact is gossip, 
and that two related facts are history," we shall 
realise in closing the book how much history we 
have absorbed in a Jourdainesque kind of ig- 
norance. 

The cure at Mareuil, the little grandsons 
finding a German skull, the lawn sacrificed to 
potatoes, the roses rising tritimphant over utilita- 
rianism, the good-byes at the railroad-stations, 
the Christmas tree, the friendly talks ... all 
these may be trifles in one way; but they are 
making history. After all, we know more about 
the Lilliputians than about the Brobdingnagians, 
and they are more illustrative of Swift. 

This story of the past war months is like a 
rich fabric so cunningly woven that the rare and 
restrained touches of emotion stand out in bril- 
liant relief against the neutral — no, that word 
has fallen into disrepute — against the sober tones 
of the daily background. And it is only in cer- 



vi PREFACE 

tain lights that one catches the gleam of the dis- 
creetly hidden threads of gold and silver which 
indicate the heroism of mother and wife. Ah, 
they are beautiful and sublime, these lives of 
French women ! Son or husband at the front, 
while the children at home are cared for, the 
wounded, poor, and wandering helped, fields 
tilled, shops kept open, and everything done 
cheerfully, "all in the day's work," with no pos- 
ing, no assumption of being above the ordinary. 
To those of us honoured by the author's friend- 
ship this book means a great deal. We have 
seen her brilliant in the world, tender and gay 
at home, helpful and widely charitable in her 
many duties, while all the time we divine that 
the mother's heart holds always the pride and 
the ache of which she writes so seldom. 

Helen Choate Prince. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 



Mobilisation — First Days of the War i 

October to December, 1914 105 

January to June, 191 5 175 

July to December, 1915 255 

With the British Expeditionary Force — 

Hazebrouck, October, 1916 337 



MOBILISATION— FIRST DAYS OF 
THE WAR 



MOBILISATION— FIRST DAYS OF 
THE WAR 

Marexhl, Saturday, August ist, '14. 
I will try and write regulariy, Dear, but this 
iniquitous war has come so suddenly that we are 
all bewildered. Even my journey down here 
seems a horrible dream, the Gare de I'Est crowded 
with troops of all grades, reservists joining their 
corps, soldiers guarding the line, a strong detach- 
ment at every bridge and tunnel. When I think 
that on Thursday, when Francis limched, he said 
the state of things was serious, that many men 
had been sent off to join their corps, but merely 
as a matter of precaution, but that the two Em- 
perors, German and Russian, were still ** talking," 
and every one hoped there would be no general 
war! He thought I could perfectly start for 
Cowes on Monday, and it was agreed that I should 
come down here for the day, Saturday, to say 
good-bye to them all. However, I must say that 
on Wednesday night, when Ambassador Herrick 
and Sir Austin Lee of the British Embassy had 
dined with us, they were pretty blue. Mr. Her- 
rick thought a general war was inevitable; it 
would be impossible to keep it between Austria 
and Servia; that Russia would surely interfere if 
Servia was attacked, and then France must fight. 

3 



4 MY WAR DIARY 

Friday afternoon we drove about Paris in all 
directions. Here in our part of the town and in 
the Champs Elysees, all was quiet enough, but the 
boulevards were crowded. In front of the office 
of the Matin that issued an extra about 7 o'clock, 
a long line of people stretched half-way across 
the boulevard. All threw themselves on the 
paper, those who could not get one reading over 
the shoulders of those who had one. A perfectly 
quiet, well-dressed crowd, a great many women, 
a great many Americans, all most eager for news. 
Austria's declaration of war to Russia, the only 
news — speculations of all kind in the crowd; 
"Austria has gone mad," we heard an English- 
man say; everybody wondering what France 
would do; all the men looked grave, but there 
was no excitement. The Petit Temps, which 
comes about 9 o'clock, didn't give anything more, 
so I decided to come down here, as we had agreed. 

As soon as I got into the Gare de I'Est this 
morning, I realised how serious the state of affairs 
was. The station was crowded with officers, 
soldiers, recruits, and baggage. They gave me a 
return ticket, as I had told Henrietta* I would take 
the afternoon train back and get home for late din- 
ner. I asked an officer what it all meant : Merely 
a measure of precaution, he told me — all the men, 
officers, soldiers, and recruits joining their corps. 
There was perfect order, the trains starting at 

* Madame Waddington's sister. 



MOBILISATION 5 

their regular hours, but anxiety was in the air. 
At every station there were soldiers. 

On getting here, I found only the gardener to 
receive me. He told me Francis* had received his 
convocation this morning, and had gone to Paris 
with Charlotte, but would be back for dinner. 
It was extraordinary to see soldiers at our little 
station. I lunched quietly with Madeleine Sal- 
landrouze and the children. We walked about 
the garden, the boys showing me their potager 
with much pride, and then settled ourselves imder 
the trees, discussing the situation and trying to 
persuade ourselves that there would be no war. 

Suddenly, about 4 o'clock, we heard the drum, 
an ominous sound in these days. In all the big 
towns, the mobilisation, or a great fire, or acci- 
dent, is announced by the bells — a "tocsin''; in 
the villages by a drum. We all rushed to the 
gate. The men came running in from the fields 
(we are in full harvest time), leaving their horses 
and placid white oxen on the road, anywhere. 
Women ran out of the cottages, their babies in 
their arms, and children tugging at their skirts, and 
the drummer, escorted by the whole population, 
us also, put up his affiches at the Mairie and the 
station, for instant mobilisation. The whole vil- 
lage was in a turmoil. Some of the men were to 
start at once — at 9 that night. The chef de gare 
had his orders; nothing but military trains were 

* Madame Waddington's son. 



6 MY WAR DIARY 

to pass — ^you will remember that we are in the 
direct line to Germany, five hours* rail from the 
frontier. He told me it was impossible for me 
to get back to Paris to-night; the train would 
probably not start, might wait on a siding all 
night, or perhaps arrive in the middle of the 
night. It would be most imprudent for me to 
risk it alone. I tried to telephone — already cut; 
sent a] telegram which never arrived, and Hen- 
rietta went nearly mad with anxiety waiting for 
me and imagining every possible misfortune. 

Mme. Sallandrouze came down at 6 o'clock 
alone. Francis and Charlotte* had breakfasted 
with her and promised to meet her at the gare, 
but they didn't appear. I suppose he had too 
much to do, as he had to buy all sorts of things, 
army shoes and flannel shirts, knapsack, flask, etc. 
Hers was the last passenger-train that left the 
Garede I'Est. She thought Francis must start 
to-morrow morning. 

All the evening from 6 o'clock, military trains 
passed; mostly cavalry — ^horses and men in the 
trains, all cheering and singing. Our boys were 
wild with excitement, but we finally got them to 
bed. When I went up-stairs to say good night 
to them, they were saying their prayers, kneeling 
before a little shrine with a statue of the virgin 
and some flowers — Mme. S. and Madeleine kneel- 
ing just behind them. When they had finished 
* Madame Waddington's daugkter-in-law. 



MOBILISATION 7 

their little childish prayer, '*Bon Dieu, benissez 
Papa, Maman, Bonne Maman, Danny, tout cenx 
que nous aimons," there was a pause, and then: 
"Bon rJieu, preservez la France." I think, per- 
haps, that simple baby prayer will be listened to 
as much as the superb proclamations of the 
Kaiser to the **God of our fathers, who is always 
with us!" 

All night the trains passed. About 9.30 we 
heard the sound of cheering, and ran down to the 
edge of the garden to see the soldiers. We thought 
the boys were sound asleep in their beds, but we 
suddenly saw two little figures in their white 
nightgowns, running over the lawn and the ten- 
nis, barefoot, waving their flags and shouting: 
*'Vive I'armee! Vive la France!" at the top of 
their voices. They climbed upon the wall and 
no one had the heart to send them away. I have 
sent again to the last train, which did not come, 
and the chef de gare assures me there is no chance 
of our getting away to-morrow. I am perfectly 
miserable. I must see Francis before he goes. I 
may never see him again. I don't think any one 
is sleeping much to-night, in this house or in the 
village. 

Paris, Sunday, August 2nd. 
Have arrived, but such a journey. I was up 
at 6 this morning, as the chef de gare sent me 
word a train might perhaps come at 7 o'clock, 



8 MY WAR DIARY 

and I had better come at once to the station and 
wait for it, but that everything was very uncer- 
tain; he could not guarantee that it would reach 
Paris. I went as soon as I could get ready, and 
waited at the station until the train arrived about 
8 — a. very long one, almost entirely military, only 
one or two passenger carriages, which were 
crowded. 

We were fourteen in our carriage (which in ordi- 
nary times seats eight) , ten seated, four standing, 
and three ^children. We stopped at every station, 
soldiers on our train, and all the trains we passed, 
singing and cheering. At one of the small sta- 
tions, many of the soldiers got out and were trans- 
ferred to the Chateau-Thierry line, and from 
there, directly to the front. A pretty girl was 
saying good-bye to her soldier and crying. She 
was instantly taken to task by one of his com- 
rades on our train. ''Voyons, petite, du cotu-age; 
ne pleure pas; nous reviendrons ! " She looked up 
at me through her tears, saying: "Tous ne revien- 
dront pas, Madame.*' And that is what we all 
are saying in these awful days. Who will be miss- 
ing at the final roll-call ? However, all the men 
are going off cheerfully, and sure that they are 
going to win this time. 

We had a nice family in the compartment, a 
refined, clever-looking young man, a professor 
from Alengon, with his wife and two babies. 
They had been travelling since 5 o'clock yesterday 



MOBILISATION 9 

afternoon, and the poor little things were so hot 
and tired, but wonderfully good. They had been 
at Verdun, close to the frontier, for their holidays, 
and took the last train that left, as the professor 
had to start instantly with his regiment. He said 
the mobilisation was being wonderfully carried 
out. One hour after the order was posted, trains 
were leaving every half -hour — men and horses in 
perfect condition, and the spirit of the men ex- 
cellent, 

I am frightened at the superiority in numbers 
of the Germans. They say they have three men 
to one over us. One man, however good he may 
be, cannot hold his own against three. 

They had left in such a hurry that they had no 
baggage. Couldn't have taken it if they had 
had it. All their belongings were tied up in a 
nice clean linen sheet. When we got to Paris I 
said to her : ' T hope you and your babies will get 
safely to Alengon, and that happier days are in 
store for you." Then she broke down, kissed me, 
and said: ''Ah, Madame, my troubles are only 
beginning. At Alengon my husband leaves at 
once for his regiment at the frontier !" I said to 
him: "I mustn't say 'bonne chance,' but I can 
say 'courage.' This wicked war has been so 
forced upon us that we must win." He answered: 
"I hope and believe it, Madame, but how much 
blood must flow, how many lives be sacrificed be- 
fore we get to the end of our struggle !" He did 



lo MY WAR DIARY 

not look as if he could stand much, a slight, deli- 
cate figure, but his fighting blood was up, as it is 
in every man in France to-day. 

We had to wait a few minutes in the train, 
when we got to Paris, to let a military train pass. 
It was pathetic to see the yoimg soldiers, some of 
them looked mere boys — all were brave and gay, 
trying to keep up. One nice fair-headed child (for 
that is what he looked like) was saying good-bye 
to his mother and sisters. The women were smil- 
ing and talking until the last moment, when the 
train started, and the young fellow jimiped onto 
his carriage. Then the poor mother broke down 
and sobbed. The girls patted her back, saying: 
*' Don't let him see you cry; wave your hand- 
kerchief!" 

The whole aspect of the place was changed 
since I left yesterday morning. Then all the 
trains and autobuses were nmning as usual; 
nor were there many people outside the station; 
it was only when I got inside and saw the crowd 
of soldiers and reservists that I had realised that 
war was not only possible, but probable. This 
morning it is absolutely deserted — ^no tramways, 
no autobus. They were all taken off at lo 
o'clock last night, and utilised at once for the 
army. Very few cabs, and they were instantly 
taken by officers. I had to walk to the church 
of St. Augustin before I got one; such a broken- 
down old nag, he could hardly get along. The 



MOBILISATION II 

coachman told me that all the good horses had 
been taken at once for the army. 

I was completely exhausted, body and mind, 
when I got to the house, and poor H. was almost 
as tired. She had waited dinner until nearly lo 
o'clock, imagining all sorts of things. Francis 
and Charlotte had been to see her, saying they 
were going down to Mareuil at 4 o'clock. Then 
came the news of the mobilisation, and all the 
people who came in to see her, told her there was 
no chance of any train leaving Mareuil that night. 
The whole *'ligne de TEst" was taken for the mili- 
tary. I foimd nothing from Francis; but a tele- 
gram came later from him, asking me to meet 
him at the Gare de I'Est to-morrow morning at 
9 o'clock. He was to join his regiment at Caen, 
that afternoon. 

The M.'s and De C. F. dined, all saying that 
the spirit and attitude of the French were splen- 
did. No declaration of war yet from Germany. 
I wonder what she is waiting for. We are still 
doubtful about England. If she comes with us, 
I think Germany is finished — ^but will she ? 

Monday, August 3rd. 

I was at the Gare de I'Est at 9, getting there 

with diffictdty with Arsene, who still has his 

horses. He asked me to bring my coupe-file,* as 

he had been stopped once or twice the other day 

* Police-pass. 



12 MY WAR DIARY 

by officers who wanted his horses. I waited un- 
til 1 1 for Francis, sitting in the carriage — I didn't 
dare get out for fear some one would take it. 

The street was most interesting, crowded with 
people, soldiers, army wagons, every now and then 
a squad of recruits passing with their sacks on 
their backs, the crowd following and carrying 
their bimdles. Two equipes d'iniirmiere de la 
Croix Rouge in uniform, in private autos, driven 
by their owners and going at full speed. Their 
Red Cross flag gave them the right to pass every- 
thing, like the pompiers. They were, of cotuse, 
wildly cheered: "Vivent les Femmes de France !'* 
There was a great demand for conveyances, and 
I suppose the cochers de fiacre asked exorbitant 
prices, as we heard a row going on between an 
officer and a coachman, who evidently had re- 
fused to take him. (Officers and Croix Rouge 
ntuses needn't pay if they haven't the money.) 
However, the crowd would have settled that mat- 
ter by breaking the carriage to pieces. They were 
beginning to demolish it when he gave in. As 
they passed us, he was scowling and muttering to 
himself, the officer standing up in the carriage, 
his sword out of the scabbard, unpleasantly near 
the back of the coachman's neck. One of the 
young reservists stopped alongside of my car- 
riage, saying civilly enough: *'C'est mal, Madame, 
de rester assise seule dans votre voiture; vous 
devriez la donner aux milit aires !" **Que voulez- 



MOBILISATION 13 

vous, mon ami, 3 'attends mon militaire; je Tem- 
mene a la gare pour partir rejoindre son regiment." 

He appeared at 11 o'clock, my militaire, look- 
ing very well and fit ; his hair cut short, a sack on 
his back, another in his hand, good stout shoes, 
and a flannel shirt. He was rather blue, having 
left his wife and children at Mareuil — ^had put 
his house on a war footing. There are only maids 
in the house, and two boys of eighteen, a young 
footman, and gardener. Mme. Sallandrouze and 
Madeleine stay with Charlotte. He gave his wife 
a Browning and revolver, showed her and the 
English nurse how to use them; gave strict orders 
that the house should be shut and barred every 
night at 8 o'clock, and should show as little light 
as possible. The farmer next door promised to 
come in every day and look after them. The 
miller, also a friend of the family, promised sacks 
of flour. Francis was not afraid of Germans 
getting anywrhere near this time, but of tramps 
or a wandering population who might get roused 
if we should have a reverse at first, which is quite 
possible. 

He came up to breakfast with us, and then I 
went to the station. They would not let me go 
in; no women were allowed inside, but a great 
many had come with their men, and the leave- 
takings were trying — though I must say, as a 
rule, the women behaved beautifully. I was glad 
when it was over and my boy with his bright 



14 MY WAR DIARY 

smile had disappeared under the voute. Still he 
was not going directly to the front as so many of 
his cousins are — ^Walter and John Waddington, 
Pierre Guerard, all cavalrymen, who will bear the 
first brimt — ^but such partings leave their mark. 
Two women in a shop looked at me so sympa- 
thetically, saying: *Tauvre dame, c'est son fils 
qui part!" There were quantities of people in 
the place, but perfect order. Not a cry of "A 
Berlin!" or of "A bas les Allemands!" merely 
**Vive I'Armee !" as the tram steamed out of the 
station. 

We had visitors all the afternoon, all sorts of 
nmioiirs flying about. There are thousands of 
Americans stranded here, without money, and 
without any means of getting home ! The Am- 
bassador has his hands full. The Embassy and 
Chancellerie are besieged. Schon, the German 
Ambassador, is still here and very blue. Ger- 
many has not yet declared war on France; wants 
to provoke France into declaring it first, but she 
won't move — only mobilised as a measure of pru- 
dence, as other nations were doing the same. 

Tuesday, August 4th. 
The declaration of war from Germany came 
this morning. Such a trivial, lying message, 
given verbally by Schon, the Ambassador, to 
Viviani, Foreign Minister — ^in substance that 
French troops had invaded German soil, and that 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 15 

aeroplanes had dropped bombs in Germany — 
which they knew was perfectly untrue. Viviani 
listened in perfect silence, merely saying the ac- 
cusations were quite false, and that preparations 
would be made at once for the Ambassador's 
departure. He left this evening in a special 
train, with all his staff, without a hostile demon- 
stration of any kind — absolute silence when he 
made his way to his carriage. Mr. Martin, 
Directeur du Protocole, was on the platform to 
see that all the arrangements were well carried 
out. Mr. Herrick takes over the German in- 
terests, and I think will have plenty to do, as 
there are many women, wives of workmen and 
employees, who could not get away with their 
men. 

The headquarters of the Croix Rouge is almost 
next door to us in the rue Frangois I^"", and the 
activity there is wonderful, autos, carriages, 
camions all day at the door. Officers and nurses 
in uniform, coming and going, and boy scouts 
starting off in all directions, carrying messages. 
I rather protested at the boys being enrolled, but 
some of our men friends explained that they could 
do an excellent service; a strong, intelligent boy 
of twelve or fourteen years could carry verbal 
messages perfectly well, and also get in and out of 
places where a full-grown man couldn't pass; also 
that they are so eager to go and be of some use. I 
suppose we ought not to hold them back. At an 



i6 MY WAR DIARY 

open window of the rez-de-chaussee, two ladies 
are taking down the names and addresses of the 
scores of girls and women who stand all day in 
a long line, asking to be employed in some way. 

While I was standing outside, waiting to speak 
to Henry Outrey, I met my niece Marguerite 
Delmas — one married daughter, whose husband is 
with the army, and her son with her. She had 
come up from the country where she is installing 
an ambulance in her chateau, and was waiting in 
hopes of getting a nurse whom she would take 
down with her. Her auto has been requisitionne, 
but she had managed to find another, and was 
anxious to get away as soon as possible. I 
brought them all back to breakfast. The hus- 
bands of both her daughters are gone, but the girls 
are very brave, going back with their mother to 
do hospital work. They started at 3 o'clock with 
the nurse. 

The seance in the Chambre des Deputes was 
splendid to-day — all the deputes standing when 
Deschanel, the President of the Chamber, made 
a panegyric of Jaures. After all, according to 
his lights and conscience he was a patriot, was 
dead, assassinated, and all party feeling shotdd 
be stilled before his tragic end. The President's 
proclamation and Viviani's statement, showing 
how France had been forced into the war, were 
enthusiastically received, all the deputies stand- 
ing and cheering, and turning to the diplomatic 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 17 

tribune, where were the British and Russian 
Ambassadors. 

I went late to the U. S. Embassy. Quantities 
of people were waiting in the anterooms and gal- 
lery. The Ambassador and Mrs. Herrick were 
in his library, with several American women and 
his secretaries coming and going all the time with 
despatches, telegrams, and cards of people who 
wanted to see the Ambassador. He had seen 
Schon before he went. Some one of the Germans 
had suggested that Herrick should put up the 
German flag at the American Embassy — a most 
brilliant idea, but not very practical — ^which, 
naturally, was immediately rejected. The Amer- 
ican Embassy would have been demolished at 
once. The French are behaving wonderfully 
well, so calm and dignified, but one must not ask 
too much of them, and the sight of the German 
flag floating amicably alongside of the Stars and 
Stripes would have been too much for their nerves. 

Various men came in this afternoon. The 
principal news that Germany has violated Bel- 
gian territory — ^her troops having invaded Bel- 
gium. I don't think England will stand that; 
still she has not moved yet, except to say that she 
would protect the French seacoast. 

Wednesday, August 5th. 
Great news this morning! Hurrah for old 
England ! She declared war on Germany at 12 



I8 MY WAR DIARY 

o'clock last night. She had waited until then 
for an answer to her ultimatum saying Germany- 
must respect the treaty and not invade Belgiimi. 
The answer was perfectly imsatisfactory when it 
came, and war was declared at once — instant 
mobilisation of army and navy ordered. It is an 
immense rehef to us, as now Great Britain can 
blockade Germany's ports and not only take her 
ships and stop her commerce, but eventually 
starve her, if the war lasts long. This will be a 
great blow to the German Emperor, who never 
believed that Britain would go against him; that 
the two great Protestant powers would fight each 
other. 

Accoimts from Berlin say the Kaiser is quite 
demoralised, shut up in his palace, not show- 
ing himself, the triimiphant ''War- Lord," to his 
people. De Courcy told us to-day that he heard 
from friends in Berlin that there had been very 
stormy scenes between the Kaiser and the Crown 
Prince before the declaration of war, the Crown 
Prince insisting that war was necessary, the 
Kaiser resisting. Finally the son said: ''You 
must fight; if not, it is the end of the Hohenzol- 
lems!" After a few moments' hesitation, the 
Kaiser answered: "We will fight; but it will be 
the end of Germany !" 

I passed the Croix Rouge on my way down- 
town. Still the same crowd, autos filled with 
bags and bundles, and the long file of women 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 19 

waiting patiently at the window. I talked to 
a nice-looking countrywoman of uncertain age, 
who wanted to speak to some one in authority. 
I said to her: ''What do you want ? You are too 
old to start as a nurse." "Not me, Madame, 
but my daughter, who is young and strong; there 
must be work for women." ' I talked to the girl, 
a nice, healthy-looking young peasant, with good, 
honest blue eyes — evidently very poor, almost 
in rags. "Do you know anything about nurs- 
ing?" "No, Madame." "Canyousew?" "No, 
Madame; but do help me to get to the front." 
I read her from the notices posted up that the 
Croix Rouge had so many offers of service they 
couldn't even answer them. They would only 
take doctors, surgeons, or medical students of 
both sexes. It didn't make the least difference; 
she remained standing in the file, saying: "There 
must be something for me to do as I am young 
and strong. I can scrub floors, make beds, lift 
heavy things, run messages. Oh, Madame, do 
help me to go!" 

I had not then seen Viviani's proclamation to 
the women of France, calling upon all those who 
were yoimg and strong to replace the men in the 
fields, insure this year's harvest, and prepare the 
next. 

There were a great many people and great con- 
fusion inside the Croix Rouge. I wanted to see 
the Comtesse d'Haussonville, the Presidente. She 



20 MY WAR DIARY 

is indefatigable, there all day, from 8 in the morn- 
ing till 8 at night, attending to everything, send- 
ing off bands of niirses (her own daughter with 
one group at Rethel on the frontier), stores of all 
kinds, and organising work in all the arrondisse- 
ments of Paris. She looks very tired, and yet 
this is only the beginning of the war. 

I wanted to speak to her about starting an 
Guvroir with one of my friends, Mrs. Mygatt, who 
has lived a great deal in Paris, and is very anxious 
to give some help to the poor women of France. 
Mr. Mygatt will give us rooms in his office in the 
Boulevard Haussmann, and we can dispose of 
one or two competent maids, sewing women, and 
sewing-machines; but we must find out what are 
the things most needed, and get patterns of 
shirts, caleQons, bandages, etc. I waited some 
time, but couldn't see Mme. d'Haussonville; shall 
try another day. 

People are in and out of our house all day, and 
we hear all sorts of rumours. The papers are sen- 
sible; don't have so many foolish stories, and the 
minimum of war news. The Germans have had 
a good repulse in Belgium. They believed with 
their usual arrogance that they could march 
straight through Belgium directly to Paris, make 
a great coup at once, knock Paris to pieces, get 
large simis of money, then turn their attention 
to the Russians, who are slow in moving and have 
great distances to cover and few railways. They 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 21 

never dreamed that Belgium would resist, or that 
Great Britain would fight against them. The 
defense of Liege has been heroic, their forts hold- 
ing out splendidly. 

I have a letter from Charlotte this morning; 
all well, and living as quietly as possible. They 
have suppressed all luxuries in their daily life: 
black coffee, afternoon tea, cakes, etc. If any one 
is hungry in the afternoon, they can have dry 
bread and cheese; but they only have two good 
meals a day, not always meat. All day long mili- 
tary trains pass, soldiers always gay and cheering. 
As soon as they will give me a pass I will try and 
get down there and take them some provisions, 
but as one can only take a hand-bag I couldn't 
carry much. 

There is a certain detente in the air since 
Britain's attitude. At some of the cafes in the 
Champs Elysees people were sitting outside taking 
their aperitifs and reading the papers. The city 
is pavoise; flags are flying everywhere, quite a 
number of British flags with the Tricolour, a few 
Rtissian. Gery Cullum walks about the streets 
all day with a Tricolour cockade and a small Brit- 
ish flag pinned on his coat. He says lots of peo- 
ple come up to him and shake hands violently — 
one man saying to him the other day: "C'est 
beau, mon vieux, la France et I'Angleterre en- 
semble; rien ne tiendra contre nous!" Dieu le 
veuille ! It is such an iniquitous war, has been 



22 MY WAR DIARY 

so forced upon us that I can't think we can be 
beaten. Even for Germany's masses of troops, 
the coahtion of France, Great Britain, and Russia 
must be a formidable one. 

Friday, 7th August. 

The Belgians are fighting splendidly. Their 
great forts at Liege, with the guns encased in 
steel turrets as on battleships, are making havoc 
with the Germans, who didn't expect any resist- 
ance. The French have not taken any part as 
yet, but troops are being hurried to the Belgian 
frontier. 

I have a telegram from Francis this morning, 
from Octeville, a suburb of Cherbourg. He says 
he is well and busy. 

Daisy Cameron came in before breakfast, and 
we went to the Affaires Etrangeres to see if we 
could get any news of her niece Mary whom she 
had left at Heidelberg with a German govern- 
ess. We saw the Chef de Cabinet, who told us 
no communication was possible with Berlin. I 
thought that as the American Ambassador there, 
Mr. Gerard, had taken on the French interests, 
he would probably have means of communica- 
tion with Paris; but he said there was no way of 
getting at Berlin. She might get information, 
perhaps, through Rome. If Mr. Herrick would 
telegraph the United States Ambassador in Rome, 
he could communicate with his colleague in Ber- 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 23 

lin, but that France could do nothing. Daisy 
was very worried as she was afraid the child with 
her governess might have left Heidelberg, trying 
to join her in Paris; and of course a German 
would never have been allowed to enter France. 

Saturday, August 8th. 

I went to the bank yesterday, which was 
crowded with Americans, all wanting money, and 
the bank giving very little. They did give me 
some, but no gold. Then I went to the annex of 
the Croix Rouge in the rue Charron, to see about 
starting an ouvroir, giving work to the hundreds of 
women who are utterly destitute — but I don't find 
any one very competent. I will try another day. 

Daisy came in late and we walked down to the 
American Embassy, where the American commit- 
tees, Repatriation and Ambulance, seem to be 
sitting in permanence. The Ambassador told 
me the news was excellent: the French had ad- 
vanced in Alsace and had taken Miilhausen. He 
thinks the Germans are going to be badly beaten. 

Sunday, gth August. 
Good news this morning. French at Miilhau- 
sen enthusiastically received by the entire popula- 
tion. Germans driven off at the point of ' the 
bayonet, and pursued by French cavalry. No 
names given of killed and wounded. The loss of 
life must have been terrific. I went to the Amer- 



24 MY WAR DIARY 

ican church, which was crowded. They sang 
splendidly the hymn "O God of Battles!" which 
rather upset me. Of course all one's nerves are 
on end. 

I went to breakfast with the CarroUs. It was 
so cool and peaceful sitting on their terrace open- 
ing on the garden, with birds singing, and the 
scent of flowers all aroimd us, that it was hard to 
believe a fierce battle was raging just over the 
frontier. They live in an old-fashioned part of 
Paris in the Faubourg St. Germain, a quiet street, 
few houses and big gardens, very little passing 
at any time — nothing to-day. Charlie Carroll is 
very busy on the Repatriation Committee sending 
Americans home, and she is on the Executive 
Committee for the buying of material for the 
American Ambulance. 

The Ambassador, in the name of his compa- 
triots in Paris, has offered to the French Govern- 
ment an ambulance entirely equipped with a com- 
petent staff of surgeons, doctors, and nurses, and 
sufficient funds to rim the whole thing. They 
have taken the Lycee Pasteur, a large new build- 
ing at Neuilly, near the American Hospital, under 
whose supervision the ambulance is put. The 
building is enormous, high, large rooms and courts, 
plenty of air and space. They can put in two 
thousand beds, but are beginning with five hun- 
dred. It is a most generous contribution, and is 
much appreciated by the French. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 25 

I stayed at home all the afternoon as it was 
very hot. We had a great many people at tea- 
time. They only got tea and pain de menage — 
no such luxuries as cakes in war-time. There is 
little news. Very angry letters from Americans 
and English stranded in Germany, who are being 
outrageously treated. Jusserand, who is here on 
leave, wants to get back to America. He and his 
wife, Joe Stevens and other friends are at Havre, 
hoping to sail on the France. They have been 
there for several days, but the steamer does not 
dare venture out, as German battleships are still 
cruising in the Atlantic. 

Jusserand was afraid the enormous German 
population in America would create a hostile feel- 
ing toward France; but I don't think he need 
worry himself on that score. The Germans them- 
selves are rapidly alienating all sympathy from 
the United States. Every one is speculating and 
commenting on the attitude of the Austrian Am- 
bassador, Count Szecsen, who still remains here, 
must, I suppose, until Austria declares war upon 
France, or sends troops to reinforce the Germans 
before Liege, which apparently she is doing 
quietly, without saying anything. He doesn't 
seem to realise his position. 

He went to dine at the Union Club the other 
night and asked Lahovary, the Roumanian Min- 
ister to dine with him. They had just sat down 
when a message came to Lahovary saying some 



26 MY WAR DIARY 

one wanted to speak to him upon urgent business. 
When he got out of the dining-room, he found 
several of the clubmen who told him he must tell 
the Ambassador to go. They didn't want to be 
rude to him, or make a scandal, but they wotild 
certainly turn their backs on him, and not speak 
to him. Lahovary went back to the Ambassador, 
saying, **I have a disagreeable commimication 
to make to you," and gave his message. Szecsen 
was furious, said: "I thought I was with gentle- 
men !" "So you are," said Lahovary, "but with 
French gentlemen who are unwilling to meet you 
at present, and would prefer you should leave the 
club quietly and not make a scandal.",. He was 
most unwilling to go — ^wanted Lahovary still to 
dine with him, which he absolutely refused to do. 
He departed at last in a rage, saying: "Where can 
I get my dinner? I can't run the risk of being 
insulted in a restaurant ! " He is still here; wants 
to oblige France to give him his passports, as that 
would force Italy to move, France being the ag- 
gressor. But France will not be quite so foolish 
as that. I think when the Italians move, which 
they must do eventually, it will not be against us. 
They are most outspoken, even the Embassy men. 
In their hearts all Italians must hate Austria; 
her rule in Italy was so cruel. 

Loubat came to see us late before dinner, and 
was very interesting. He was here in 1870, saw 
all the troops go off, many of them already hostile 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 27 

to the Emperor before starting, and even those 
who were not, so nervous and excited and doubt- 
ful of their generals — soldiers as well as officers — 
and the talk at all the clubs so violent and wild. 
Now the whole of France marches like one man. 
No excitement, no cries of *'A Berlin!'* the men 
grave, but cheerful, the women splendid, saying 
good-bye to their men, without a tear, and encour- 
aging them to the last moment; but all feel what 
a terrible struggle is before us. 

Monday, August loth. 
It has been frightfully hot all day. There was 
very little war news this morning. All the move- 
ments of troops have been kept very quiet. It 
is awful to wake up every morning with such a 
weight on one's heart.. The stillness of the city, 
too, is so awful, so unlike Paris. Very little pass- 
ing, no loud talking or laughing, not a sound of 
singing or whistling since the declaration of war. 
I would give anything to hear the workmen sing- 
ing and chaffing in the big house they are build- 
ing opposite to us, but there are none left; all 
have gone to the front. The only note of gaiety 
are the boy scouts attached to the **Red Cross," 
who breakfast every morning at the cafe on the 
comer; they range from twelve to sixteen, look as 
lively as possible, such eager yotmg faces and so 
important. I often stop and talk to them and 
ask for news. 



28 MY WAR DIARY 

I tried again to-day at the annex of the Red 
Cross to get some models of garments for the sick 
and woimded, and to know what were the things 
most needed, but no one seemed to know any- 
thing. They sent me from one room to another. 
Everywhere ladies were working, rolling bandages 
and hemming handkerchiefs. They asked me if 
I had come to work, and would I hem handker- 
chiefs; that I declined absolutely. Really not 
worth while to waste my time that way. Any 
school-child would have been delighted to earn 
a few sous and hem all they wanted. When I 
was finally told I had better see the Mayor of my 
arrondissement and ask for permission, my tem- 
per and patience gave way, and I expressed myself 
vigorously to the very mild old gentleman — a 
tapissier in ordinary times, who was the last per- 
son I was sent to. It is really too bad, at such a 
time, the amount of talking and writing and red 
tape ^generally one must go through before ac- 
complishing anything. I wanted their models^ 
because some of the shirts that have been sent to 
the hospitals could never have been put on any 
human figure — the neck so small that the head 
of a new-born babe could hardly pass, and long, 
narrow sleeves that hung like strings from the 
shoulders. 

However, one must not criticise, for the Red 
Cross is doing splendid work, and they must be 
driven crazy with all the inane offers of service 
they receive. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 29 

We had a good many visits this afternoon — 
some of the ladies connected with the American 
ambulance. Forty ladies meet at the Embassy 
every day. Mrs. Herrick is president, and she 
will certainly get all the money she wants. People 
are all so fond of her. She came in late, looking 
rather exhausted, but revived with a cup of tea; 
said the meetings were very tiring, so many sug- 
gestions and opinions, and forty women all talk- 
ing at once. 

Charlie Forbes and Gery CuUum dined with us. 
We warned them they would have a very frugal 
repast. No one has anything else these days — 
but they didn't mind. They had dined last night 
at one of the big cafes on the boulevards — dinner 
very good, a great many people ; diplomatists and 
strangers. At 9 o'clock two policemen appeared, 
saying the doors must be closed. No one made 
any objection; all trooped out into the street and 
walked about a little. At 10 o'clock the boulevard 
was as deserted and quiet as any provincial town. 

The troops have been sent off very quietly, 
either at night or by the underground railway. 
We have seen no regiments marching through the 
streets, flags flying, music playing, followed by 
an enthusiastic, excited crowd. I have never 
seen Paris so calm. 

Tuesday, August nth. 
Another very warm day — no particular news in 
the paper. The allied armies seem to have joined 



30 MY WAR DIARY 

forces, but no big battle has taken place yet. It 
is awfiil to think of these two great armies facing 
each other, and of the terrific loss of life there 
will be when the fighting really begins. I don't 
know how the German Emperor dared take such 
a responsibility. 

The Austrian Ambassador has finally departed. 
It seems the Austrian explanations were vague 
when our Foreign Office asked if Austrian troops 
were moving quickly to Alsace to reinforce the 
Germans. War is not declared between the two 
countries, but there is a diplomatic rupttire. 
Both Ambassadors in Paris and Vienna recalled. 
I imagine Szecsen was glad to go. His position 
cannot have been very agreeable these last days. 
Mr. Herrick takes over the Austrian interests. 
He will have his hands full, as he already has the 
Germans and all his own people. He is quite 
equal to the task, is perfectly quiet and prudent, 
and is winning golden opinions. America is lucky 
to have had such a man here at this time. 

It is extraordinary how the Germans have man- 
aged to put every one against them. I fancy the 
sympathy for France in the United States has 
been a disagreeable surprise for them. 

I have no further news of Francis, merely his 
first telegram from Octeville ; if he had been moved 
I think he would have told us. Charlotte's letters 
come pretty regularly. She writes they are all 
well but a little short of provisions. I hope I 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 31 

shall be able to get down to Mareuil for two days, 
now that the mobilisation is nearly over. 

Wednesday, August 12 th. 

Another very hot day; still no fighting. I don't 
know if the delay is good. It gives the French 
more time to concentrate their forces, and also 
for Russia to advance. 

I made another attempt to get patterns this 
morning, and finally succeeded. I went to the 
principal office of the Croix Rouge and saw 
D'Haussonville who did all I wanted, and sent 
Henry Outrey (who is working at the Red Cross 
until he is called to the colours) with me to the 
** lingerie." There I found the Duchesse de Tre- 
vise and some ladies whom I knew, and got all 
sorts of patterns and measttres, carrying off a shirt 
which I promised to send back at once, as they 
had very few. They told me they particularly 
wanted old linen sheets for bandages and com- 
presses, also new cotton sheets and pillow-cases. 
H. had some old sheets and we sent them off 
at once. 

I went about 5 to the Embassy to pick up 
Daisy Cameron, who has just taken charge of the 
ouvroir for the American Ambulance. Baronne 
Castelli — an American bom — ^has put her apart- 
ment in the Champs Elysees at the disposal of 
the American Ambulance; and Daisy is going to 
organise her work-rooms. The Embassy gates 



32 MY WAR DIARY 

and doors were open. Quantities of people about 
inside and outside. I waited in the gallery as 
Daisy was still in the Committee-room. I saw 
George Munroe and Fred Allen, both of whom 
are working hard at the relief fund to send back 
Americans. Herman Hayes, too, I saw in the 
distance. The bankers are doing all they can 
to relieve the money pressure, and have a hard 
time, as of course every one is short of funds. 
The war came so suddenly. 

George Munroe has his son at the front. 

Daisy and I walked down-town late. Every- 
thing quiet; almost all the shops shut; on many 
of them a notice posted up: **Fermeej le proprie- 
taire est sous les drapeaux." We went as far as 
Colombin's, where we had a cup of tea, cakes, and 
sandwiches as usual. There were quite a num- 
ber of people — almost all Americans. The cais- 
si^re told us they had several tables taken every 
day for luncheon. I was astonished to see cakes. 
Our baker and others in our quarter since four or 
five days make no more cakes, nor even rolls 
and croissants. We have pain de menage, which 
is a little tough but more healthy, I fancy, than 
finer bread. We don't mind it; one gets accus- 
tomed to everything. 

*'Les joumees passent et se ressemblent." The 
heat is awful, but they say it is better for the sol- 
diers than rain or damp. Great heat dries up the 
microbes. We have got our work-room started. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 33 

and it will be a great help to us to feel we are 
doing something. Nothing but occupation of 
some kind can keep up the courage of the women 
who sit at home and wait. Mrs. Mygatt and I 
went to the Croix Rouge and had a long wait at 
the lingerie, carrying off a bundle of shirts, belts, 
bandages of every possible shape. 

I had a letter from Francis this morning from 
Octeville. His regiment is doing garde-c6te, and 
he is secretaire-cycliste to the Colonel; carries 
despatches. He says he has a very good room 
and bureau. As soon as the Mayor heard his 
name, he put himself at his disposal and does all 
he can to make him comfortable. They are on 
a hill with a splendid view of the port and sea, 
and delightful sea air. They have a very good 
mess (the sous-officiers). A chef from Paris, 
from the Cercle Volney, looks after them. He 
says their journey from Caen was one long marche 
triomphale; they were showered with fruit, wine, 
flowers, and cigarettes all along the route. 

Saturday, August isth, 
Assumption Day. 

It is generally such a gay day here; bells ring- 
ing, churches open, everybody out in holiday at^ 
tire. This morning it is quiet enough. No one 
feels very cheerful with this awftd war-cloud hang- 
ing over us, and the dread of what the morrow 
may bring, when those two great armies meet. I 



34 MY WAR DIARY 

enclose a scathing sonnet to the Kaiser, published 
by the Times. 

I have been all the afternoon at the ouvroir. 
We are beginning very modestly, but hope to get 
more funds as we go on. We have two capable 
women, Mrs. G.'s maid and a dressmaker, out of 
work now, who buys our stuff much cheaper than 
we can, and cuts out shirts and dresses; also two 
sewing-machines. There is quite a pile of flannel, 
cotton, coarse linen, and old shirts on the tables. 
I worked all the afternoon basting hems of shirt- 
tails for the machine. I certainly have not done 
anything of that kind for thirty-eight years, and 
I was quite tired when I got home. 

They asked me at the Croix Rouge what I 
wanted to do: had I any aptitude medicale, or 
any experience of nursing ? I answered promptly : 
"None whatever;" knew nothing about sickness, 
and hated a sick-room, but of course I would do 
what I could, and offered to start an ouvroir 
with my friends, which they accepted with joy. 

We had an interesting woman this afternoon, 
an Alsatian, a trained niurse, who will come and 
work with us until she is ordered off to some hos- 
pital; she looks tired to death, has already been 
nursing, but won't hear of resting; also a Belgian 
couple, who will work regularly with us. They 
are so proud of their country, as they well may be, 
and France should be eternally grateful to the 
Belgians, as that first repulse of the Germans at 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 35 

Liege has given them time to get up their troops, 
and has also made a moral effect which has been 
splendid for us. If we had had a first defeat at 
the frontier (which we all expected), there might 
have been a panic in the country. They read us 
interesting letters from their parents who are in the 
country in Belgiimi, about three miles from Liege. 
Their three children are with them, all wildly 
excited about the war and against the Germans. 
They write they will certainly have the Germans 
at their place, if they advance at all into the 
country, and that his father was exhorting the 
children and servants to be perfectly civil to them 
when they came. They can't help having them, 
and any rudeness might make serious complica- 
tions for them, and end in his being shot, as those 
barbarians make short work of any who stand in 
their way. What a wicked war in these days of 
education and Christianity ! 

Charlie Forbes came to tea with us. Mrs. 
Mygatt gives us tea always, and the slices of 
bread and butter made of the perfectly plain 
pain de menage (which some of our pampered 
servants don't eat in ordinary times) were very 
good. Charlie was most amiable — let us try all 
our shirts, hospital and convalescent, on him. 
We were particularly asked to make the arm- 
holes wide, and the sleeves loose. He is such a 
big man that what went on easily over his coat 
was quite large enough for any one. 



36 MY WAR DIARY 

One of the party read aloud the curious proph- 
ecy of Madame de Thebes, that appeared in her 
calendar at the beginning of this year, and An- 
nunzio's splendid Ode pour la Resurrection Latine, 
I wonder if Italy will move. 

I went to see Mrs. Herrick after leaving the 
work-room, and happily found her alone, not 
surrounded by her forty women of the American 
Ambulance Committee. She says her Ambas- 
sador is very well, very busy, and very tired, 
but very pleased with the way in which all his 
American friends have stood by him and helped 
him. 

Daisy Cameron came in before dinner, much 
relieved at having had news of Mary, who is safe 
in Berlin with the Gerards at the Embassy. I 
didn't go out this morning except for a few min- 
utes to the Croix Rouge, to ask if we must do 
anything about putting their flag on our building, 
but I found no one who could tell me. They are 
overwhelmed with business, one hardly likes to 
ask a question. 

I went to the ouvroir about 2.30 and met 
Olive Tiffany coming in. She is a capital worker ; 
said she would do anything that was wanted, so 
she was instantly given a pile of shirts and asked 
to make buttonholes, three in each. They sug- 
gested I should sew on buttons, which I quite re- 
fused to do. After all, people must work accord- 
ing to their limitations, and I preferred basting 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 37 

hems. I think I must have basted miles of shirt- 
tails so far. 

Comtesse de Franqueville (nee Lady Sophia 
Palmer) came in at tea-time; so pleased that 
France and England were fighting together. She 
had been standing in the crowd near the British 
Embassy to see Sir John French arrive; said he 
was most enthusiastically received, and looked 
very well and soldierly in his tenue de campagne. 
They are going to have ten thousand sheep in the 
park of their Chateau de la Muette, just at the en- 
trance of the Bois ; and a large flock has just been 
put on the race-course at Longchamp, cows on 
the Auteuil course, and an immense enclosure in 
the Bois, railed off for oxen. I suppose these are 
necessary precautions, but at the present moment 
we are feeHng not the slightest inconvenience 
from the state of siege. The markets are supplied 
as usual, and no increase of prices. One day 
chickens were dear — a very small one, frs. 14 — 
just double the ordinary cost. We declined it, 
and I fancy everybody else did the same, as they 
have returned now to their normal price. 

Monday, August 17th. 
We are still living our quiet life in a dead city. 
News this morning of fresh French successes. 
Germany repulsed on the Meuse, many drowned 
in the river, and we hope it is true, and wish 
there are many more Meuses and many more 



38 MY WAR DIARY 

Germans drowned in them — ^which is an awftil 
state of mind to be in for a Christian woman. 
But the sooner the war is over and the more 
Germans disappear from the face of the earth, 
the better for civilisation and the whole of 
Europe. 

I walked about the Trocadero and near the 
Tour Eiffel this morning, and there one realises 
that the situation is serious. There are cannon 
and soldiers in the Trocadero grounds, and a 
strong guard and mitrailleuses at the Tour Eiffel. 
All the sentries with fixed bayonets and looking 
very grim. I went as usual to the ouvroir, which 
begins to look very businesslike. One of our 
workers, a small dressmaker, had been applying 
to various maids and small people she knew, and 
had got a pile of fairly good linen sheets for one 
franc apiece. Of course they ought to be given 
at such a time, but every one is glad to earn a 
little money. There are so many women and 
girls thrown out of employment by all the big 
shops shutting, and business generally stopped, 
that there is great misery already, and the war 
not really begun. The wives and mothers of 
men sous les drapeaux are being looked after by 
the Government, but it is only private initiative 
that can help the others. 

It is pathetic to see the little midinettes, gen- 
erally so smiling and well-dressed, often with a 
little bunch of violets on their coats, looking so 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 39 

sad and pale and hungry. And one knows that 
they are hungry, but they don't complain. 

The Americans living in Paris are most gener- 
ous, but they all have to look first after their own 
compatriots stranded here with no money and no 
shelter — and have organised besides their ambu- 
lance on a grand scale. 

Our teas are rather amusing; every one con- 
tributes something. Mme. del M., our Belgian 
friend, brought a pot of strawberry jam to-day, 
I a plain cake made at home, some one else a 
loaf of English bread, which makes better tartines 
than thick pain de menage. Every one else does 
the same thing. 

Henry O., who is working at the War Office, 
dines often with the Jean Sallandrouzes and brings 
a ham or a roimd of cold beef with him. Palma 
Ruspoli brought a rimiour which she said, however, 
was not confirmed at the Embassy, that there 
had been an awful naval battle in the North Sea. 
Eight British battleships sunk, twenty-eight Ger- 
mans, and a great nvimber of the merchant ships 
sunk. There is no mention of it in to-night's 
papers. 

I am writing late, 11 o'clock. The street is 
perfectly quiet, not a sound nor a light; I should 
not think there was anybody left in the street 
except on the entresol opposite, where we see a 
light every night, which looks friendly. There 
are, however, many people in town. Quite a 



40 MY WAR DIARY 

number of autos were running up and down the 
Champs Elysees yesterday when I came home at 
7 o'clock. 

Wednesday, August 19th. 

We lose almost the count of the days, they go 
on so monotonously. We pore over the papers, 
but they give so little news. The weather is en- 
chanting, bright, beautiful summer days; rather 
cooler this morning. Report says that the Ger- 
man Crown Prince charged with the Imperial 
Guard at Dinant and was badly woimded, but it 
was not confirmed in the official communique this 
afternoon. The War Office issues a bulletin every 
afternoon at 5 o'clock, and somebody always comes 
in to tell us the last news. 

Mr. Herrick and Austin Lee dined this evening. 
Both men are most interesting. Our repast was 
frugal — ^war rations, a soup, piece of beef, salad, 
a vegetable and a compote — ^not exactly an ambas- 
sadorial banquet. Fruit is plentiful and cheap. 
Mr. Herrick said the young American army men 
who were out here, either for the manoeuvres or 
instruction in some of the French Corps d'Armee, 
were astounded at the order and quickness with 
which the mobilisation was carried out — also that 
they had been very intelligent and useful in help- 
ing him handle the mass of Americans who con- 
gregate every day at the Chancellerie, begging to 
be sent home. The American Ambiilance is going 
splendidly; they get all the money they want. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 41 

I had a long letter from Charlotte this evening, 
the first in many days. Of course, being on the 
line of the Est, she sees a great deal of the move- 
ment of troops, and writes: ''Tuesday, we went 
to La Ferte-Milon to give the soldiers flowers. 
They love it, and all the carriages are covered 
with branches and flowers given to them. The 
soldier Madeleine gave the bouquet to, kissed 
her, then me, and then my mother on both 
cheeks. I gave my bouquet to a nice little young 
soldier who was quite touched by it, so much so 
that when the train started, he called an employe 
of the station and asked him to give me 'de sa 
part sa medaille de la Sainte Vierge,' a very pretty 
one in silver. I think it was so sweet of that 
young man, and so delicately done. I shall keep 
it as a souvenir 'd'un inconnu.* I gave my cotisa- 
tion (subscription) for the drinks of the soldiers; 
they made a collection in the town to buy ab- 
sinthe. They put a litre of absinthe into thirty 
litres of water, and the yoimg women and girls of 
La Ferte-Milon give it to the soldiers in their tin 
cups when the train stops. As they passed every 
twenty minutes for eight days, we were very busy. 
The men are delighted to drink something cool. 
Some of them had travelled twenty-four hours in 
those horse-vans, poor creatures. One lot of pris- 
oners has already passed here, Uhlans. 

"We have very little news from the war, the 
Petit Journal being the only paper we receive. 



42 



MY WAR DIARY 



It is quite difficult to get about, no trains, no car- 
riages, as all the horses have been taken, and we 
have to have a laissez-passer every time we stir 
out of Mareuil. We cannot even go on the 
Meaux or Fleury roads. They are very severe 
because of the railway-line, as espions have already 
tried several times to blow up bridges and tunnels. 
*'We work hard for the Croix Rouge — ^shirts, 
bandages, sheets, etc. I have organized a 'gar- 
derie d'enf ants' to allow the mothers to go to the 
fields for the harvest; and we have in the court- 
yard every day, from 8 to lo, and from i to 6, 
fifty or sixty children. I assure you it is a piece of 
work, and I hope it coimts as charity. 'Monsieur 
le Cure * rings every night at 8 o'clock the special 
prayers for time of war, and we all go. The boys 
are flourishing — ^much excited when the trains 
pass. I put the newspaper every day on the gar- 
den wall, near the gate, so that people who have 
no paper can read the news. Ever so many have 
thanked me." 

Friday, August 2ist. 

I went this morning to the service of the Eng- 
lish chiu-ch for their naval and military forces now 
engaged in war. It was very solemn, almost all 
women, some oldish men. Two boy scouts dis- 
tributed the leaflets with the special forms. Mr. 
Cardew asked every one to think of the sailors 
when singing the hymn ''For those in peril on the 



sea." 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 43 

The papers are always interesting with all the 
various letters and experiences of unfortunate 
travellers — British or Americans trying to get 
home. It is lucky that the French are a non- 
travelling race. I don't know what would have 
happened if four or five thousand French people 
had been travelling in Germany or Switzerland. 

Charlotte came up yesterday, looking very 
well. We went to the Croix Rouge to see if 
Comtesse d'Haussonville would like to have an 
ambulance at Crouy. They can offer one htindred 
beds with their sheets and blankets in a big old 
chateau with a large garden and terrace, but no 
staff except some volunteer nurses, and no money 
to run it. Mme. d'Haussonville told us at once 
that want of funds was the great difficulty; that 
they had been offered quantities of houses and 
beds, but without money to run the thing, they 
could not be accepted. The President of the 
Croix Rouge, the Marquis de Vogue,has just issued 
an appeal, which is placarded everyw^here, asking 
every one to contribute what they can, money, 
clothes, blankets, anything. 

We were at the ouvroir all the afternoon, and 
things are gradually getting into shape. But 
again we are stopped by want of funds. We don't 
want to work ourselves, but give work to hundreds 
of women who are absolutely penniless, not only 
soldiers' wives, but quantities of young women 
and girls left with no work and no money. Nearly 



44 MY WAR DIARY 

all the big shops and business establishments are 
closed. I saw two nice-looking girls this morn- 
ing, premieres at one of the big dressmakers of 
the rue de la Paix, who told me they had just one 
franc between them. It is always the same story 
with that class in Paris. They spend all they 
earn on their backs. Three or four of them club 
together and have a good room, and they live au 
jour le jour, putting nothing aside for illness or 
dark days. In our rooms we could easily employ 
sixty, perhaps more, women, give them fr. 1.50 a 
day, and one good meal. They could work all 
day, making clothes for the sick, the wounded, 
and the refugees — these last are no small item 
now in the Paris population. 

Charlotte carried off various patterns, as she 
has also a work-room at Mareuil. She will surely 
have many refugees as we are so near the Bel- 
gian frontier. We stopped at one or two work- 
rooms on our way up to the rue de la Pompe, to 
ask about prices, meals, hours, etc., as all this 
sort of work is new to us, and everyivhere heard 
the same story — ^the quantity of women begging 
for work. 

Daisy Cameron came to dinner, and was most 
amusing with the account of her work-room for 
the American Ambulance. She has volunteered 
as nurse, and I am sure she should be an excellent 
nurse — she has seen so much illness and so many 
operations in her own family. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 45 

Saturday, August 22nd. 

Charlotte lunched with the Tiifanys at their 
hotel. She left all her bundles, a fine collection, 
with me, and I went to get her to take her to the 
train; I could hardly get in the cab, and I don't 
know now how the two of us managed it ; but we 
did. It looked strange to see that busy Gare 
de FEst almost deserted, entirely under military 
control — soldiers on all the platforms. They 
were much interested in all Charlotte's bundles, 
asked her if she was going to the front, as she 
had on the Red Cross badge. 

Some of the empty carriages that have come 
back from the frontier were rather amusing, with 
all sorts of rough drawings in chalk on the out- 
side. Various heads of ''Guillaume" with enor- 
mous mustaches, and rather a pretty girl's head 
on one — * ' ma gosse' ' (my girl, in village patois) . I 
stayed till the train started. I think the two days 
in town rather cheered up Charlotte. She saw 
a good many people, and heard more news, such 
as it was. It is rather an austere life at Mareuil 
in war-time, and she feels a certain responsibility 
with the children and the people of the village, 
who all come to her. If her mother were not with 
her I should have to go to Mareuil — and yet I 
cannot leave H. altogether. Charlotte is very 
brave, but misses her husband so awfully, and 
has so little news. 

I went straight to my ouvroir and worked all 



46 MY WAR DIARY 

the afternoon. Olive brought me an attractive 
woman, one of the New York Times correspondents. 
She interested herself at once in our work, and 
between us we wrote an appeal to some of the 
American papers, which she cabled over at once. 
So many Americans, perfect strangers to me, 
names I didn't know at all, wrote to me from 
the west — Kentucky, Wisconsin, Arizona, about 
my book on France — Chateau and Country Life 
in France — saying they had read it with so much 
interest, that I thought they might, perhaps, 
come to our assistance. This is what I wrote: 

APPEAL 

**So many Americans have seemed interested 
"in what I wrote of France and my life there in 
"happier days, that I think they may be inclined 
"to help her in her hour of dire need. We women 
"of France must do something for the htmdreds 
"of women who are left absolutely penniless, 
"their sons and husbands at the war, they with- 
"out any resources — ^as almost all the big shops 
"and business establishments have closed — I, 
"with some of my friends, am organizing a work- 
"room where we give fr. 1.50 and one meal a day 
"to any woman who comes. They work all day, 
"making garments for the sick and wounded, for 
"which we furnish the material. We have many 
"more applicants than we can employ, and are in 
"desperate need of funds. Can you help us ?" 

I hope I shall get some money. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 47 

Monday, August 24th. 

These are awful days. There is a terrific bat- 
tle going on in Belgium. Yesterday, one was ill 
with apprehension; the day was warm and try- 
ing; the very air seemed heavy with presenti- 
ments. I went to the English church. The 
special prayers for time of war bring it home to 
one. As on the other day, two boy scouts were 
handing books and the plate. I stayed in all 
the afternoon. We had a great many visits — 
some of them most depressing, the men more 
than the women. Such rumours: that we were 
being badly beaten; nothing would prevent the 
Germans from entering Paris; the scum of the 
population would rise in a frenzy if the fighting 
went on without any news ; that the Government 
would go to Bordeaux ; that the German Zeppelins 
would drop bombs all over Paris and set fire to 
the city; and though my own common sense told 
me not to pay the slightest attention to all the 
nmiours, one can't keep being a little impressed by 
them. It was a relief to have one of the Dutch 
secretaries. Baron de G., come to dinner quietly 
with us, who told us not to mind any such reports; 
that at his legation the report was: ** Situation 
grave but satisfactory." 

While we were talking, all the windows open, 
we heard cavalry passing, and rushed to the bal- 
cony, as did every one else in the street, but it 
was only a detachment of the Garde Republicaine, 
which patrols Paris every night. All our nerves 



48 MY WAR DIARY 

are on edge, and yet one must be perfectly cool 
and keep up the courage of the people. We didn't 
hear any news at the ouvroir, but every one looks 
grave, and all throw themselves upon the special 
editions of the papers that came all day with 
nothing in them. 

The commtmications from the front are very 
brief, and have become much more so, as the 
battle rages. 

Wednesday, August 26th. 

Still no news, and our days are exactly alike. 
I had a letter from Francis this morning from 
Octeville. He is very busy, but says the life is 
monotonous. He had seen a convoy of German 
prisoners arrive. They were received in perfect 
silence — ^not a word, nor a soimd. The General 
commanding at Chatenay had given strict orders 
to treat them with respect. They were soldiers, 
doing their duty to their country, as we were to 
otu-s. Francis talked later to one or two of them; 
said they were famished, and not at all enthusiastic 
about the war. , 

I went to see Mme. Sallandrouze on my way 
home. She had come up for two days from 
Mareuil; looked exhausted. She had been five 
hours on a journey which usually takes two. The 
people on the train were fourteen in their com- 
partment, and a solid mass of people with their 
valises and bundles, standing in the couloir. She 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 49 

would like to come to Paris. They say there will 
certainly be bands of Uhlans all over our part of 
the country, and there are wild rumours of auto- 
mobiles blindes dashing at full speed through the 
villages, shooting any one they meet. We are 
only three hours from the frontier, and she can't 
take the responsibility — ^would never forgive her- 
self if anything happened to the children. 

We are all imder the impression of the brutali- 
ties of the Germans in Belgium, who in one of 
the villages shot a boy of seven years who aimed 
his toy gun at them. 

Our boys play about the garden all day with 
their flags and guns, shouting *'Vive I'armee," 
and **Vive la France." If they heard cavalry 
passing on the road, they would certainly dash 
out of the gates, and anything might happen. 
The Germans would not hesitate to shoot down 
two boys shouting **Vive la France.'* I think 
they had better come up. I will try and go down 
there on Saturday. 

The new ministry which is announced this 
morning, has been an excellent move. It is cer- 
tainly the moment to sink all political feeling, and 
call upon the best men of all parties to come to 
the front. I think it will give the cotmtry great 
confidence, especially Millerand at the War Office. 
The army, which criticised his first appointment to 
the War Office some time ago, ended by liking 
him very much. Though a civilian, he under- 



50 MY WAR DIARY 

stood the French soldiers, and knew how to keep 
up their military enthusiasm. The Radicals have 
done much harm with their anti-military cam- 
paign. 

Thursday, August 27th. 
It was cool, a lovely morning. I went to the 
bank with the Mygatts, to discuss our Relief 
Fund — as Harjes will receive any money that is 
sent. I rather demurred at the name: *'Mme. 
Waddington Relief-Fund.** It seemed so very 
personal. But the gentlemen said as I had made 
a direct appeal in my own name, the money must 
be sent to me. I shall be very grateful for any- 
thing I get, as the misery is going to be awful — 
not only the quantities of Frenchwomen without 
work, but all the Belgian refugees. One of my 
friends saw a lot of them the other day, all hud- 
dled together in a court of the Chemin de Fer du 
Nord. He said they looked exhausted, the 
women carrying their babies, the men all old, 
well past middle-age, carrying the bimdles, with 
all sorts of things in them — evidently put together 
in a hurry at the last moment — ^pots, boots, some 
clothes, bird-cages (one man had a saddle from 
which he absolutely declined to be parted), per- 
fectly useless things. People were bringing food 
and wine to them, milk for the babies, which they 
accepted most gratefully. They didn't complain; 
seemed stunned by the appalling misfortune which 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 51 

had come upon them so suddenly. Some of them 
were perfectly prosperous farmers with large, 
comfortable houses, plenty of beasts of all kinds. 
The Germans took away the animals, burned the 
houses; they saw them in flames behind them 
when they were flying for their lives. It is too 
horrible to think of the misery that prett}", pros- 
perous little country is going through. 

I am getting a little nervous about the chil- 
dren. I am fairly brave, but can't help being 
impressed with all I hear. Mareuil is directly 
on the line from Meaux to Rheims, and a household 
of women would be helpless against an invasion 
of such barbarians. 

Friday, August 28th. 

Francis* birthday. We sent him a telegram. 
Have heard nothing from him for some days. 

I dined last night with H., an ex-Conseiller 
General of the Oise. He asked me to come — 
**pas un diner, une reunion de dames, en toilette 
d'ambulance." Of course no one dresses in these 
days. I put on my red cross medal over my 
plain black dress, and walked over (it is only 
two blocks off) in the rain, imder an umbrella. I 
found four or five men — two Conseillers d'Etat, an 
ex-Prefet, one of the Directors of the Banque de 
France, and a yoimg woman, daughter of one of 
the Conseillers, whose husband is at the front. 
The Director of the Bank had just come back from 



52 MY WAR DIARY 

Rennes, where he had deposited a large amount 
of gold — I dare not say how many millions — in 
the bank. The yoiingest Conseiller d'Etat had 
also just returned from a toumee, a mission he 
had made in the north of France, with one of the 
generals. He said that the condition of the men, 
physically and morally, was excellent, and the 
food supply abundant and marvellously carried 
out. They had their two meals a day, quite hot 
and good. 

They all spoke most warmly of the ministry; 
said they were doing splendid work, and also of 
Poincare; say he is wonderful, very cool, knows 
all about everything; where each corps d'armee 
is — that of course — and every regiment, and who 
commands it ; has no doubt as to the final result, 
but thinks France will lose half her army. It is 
awful to think of the mournings — a whole genera- 
tion wiped out. . . . 

Sunday, August 30th. 
Still the same beautiful weather. When one 
thinks of what France ought to be at this time, 
with a splendid harvest — all the people in the 
country, men, women, and children working in 
the fields, coming in at night so pleased with their 
day's work, it is terrible to feel that the country 
is being devastated by the Germans. I was mis- 
erable all day yesterday ; I had quite made up my 
mind to go down to Mareuil for twenty-fottr hours 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 53 

and bring up the children, but everybody told me 
I mustn't go; it would only complicate things for 
them, make one more person in the train; so I 
sent a telegram to Charlotte, telling her to come 
at once. Jean Sallandrouze sent one to his 
mother, saying the same thing. He came in 
just before dinner to say he had just had a tele- 
gram from Mareuil, saying they would start this 
morning, but would probably arrive late in the 
evening, as there was "du retard dans le ser- 
vice. 

I went to the American church; there were not 
many people. One young woman, just in front 
of me, was crying almost all the time. I suppose, 
like all the rest of us, she had some dear ones at 
the front. I didn't go out again until late, and 
then went with the Mygatts to the Bois de Bou- 
logne, which has been transformed into a whole- 
sale provision camp. The two race-courses, Au- 
teuil, Longchamp, filled with cows and oxen, 
sheep at the Tir aux Pigeons, and quantities of 
hay and food in great stacks. There were, as 
usual on a Stmday afternoon, many people dining 
al fresco on the grass — ^whole families, from grand- 
mothers to babies, sitting on the grass and making 
their evening meal; but there were no games, no 
tennis, no football, nor any gaiety. Every one 
looked grave. 

I stopped at the rue dArtois to see if there was 
any news of the children, but they hadn't come. 



54 MY WAR DIARY 

The Segurs dined with us. They had come to 
Paris for his Conseil General, which is usually 
held at Melun, but in these agitated days it was 
judged more prudent to have it in Paris, and they 
met in the Palais Boiu-bon (Chamber of Deputies). 
They were both rather sad, having between them 
eighteen nephews and grand-nephews at the front, 
and no news of any. Segur is always so moderate 
in all he says. He has no sympathy with the 
Republic, but thinks the Government is doing 
splendidly. 

About 10 o'clock L. de R. came in and told 
me that the Mareuil party had arrived well, but 
exhausted, having left Mareuil at 7 in the morn- 
ing, and only arrived at Paris at 10 o'clock at 
night. It was a great relief to me. 

Monday, August 31st. 
It has been again a very hot day, and I am 
worn out to-night with heat and emotion. At 
9.30, before I was dressed, Mme. Jean S. came 
to see me, to say that they were all starting before 
12 for Orleans in autos, en route for Tours. I 
went straight over to the rue d'Artois where 
Charlotte had gone to her mother's apartment. 
Ours in the rue de la Pompe is shut up; it would 
not have been worth while to have opened it for 
one night, and Mme. Sallandrouze could take 
them in, and found them all exhausted, but so 
pleased to be out of the fighting zone. , 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 55 

They were told Satiirday evening that they 
must leave at once, La Ferte-Milon, the place 
next to us, was being evacue, and there were re- 
ports of bodies of Uhlans at Laon. They all 
worked hard Saturday night, hiding silver, valu- 
ables, etc., and started at 7 Sunday morning. 
When the train drew into the station from Rheims, 
crowded with wotinded and refugees, they didn't 
want to take them at once. But the chef de 
gare, who knows us well, insisted, and they got 
in, scattered about the train — the two boys and 
their nurse in a fourgon (baggage-wagon) with 
some soldiers — the others in third-class carriages 
— anywhere. They had long waits all along the 
route, being shunted all the time, to make way 
for military trains. At Meaux the Red Cross 
ambulance was stationed at the gare, all the 
women occupying themselves with the wounded, 
and giving food and clothes to the refugees. 
They gave the children's Nanna, who is an excel- 
lent nturse, a bowl of water and a towel, and asked 
her to wash some of the wounded men. The 
boys were so tired that Charlotte, who is a Red 
Cross herself, asked for a cup of milk for each of 
them. The woman said to her: *'We shouldn't 
give it, Madame; your children look strong and 
well. We ought to keep the milk for the babies 
and little ones." C. couldn't insist, but the 
woman was evidently sorry for the two little boys 
and gave one cup of milk for the two. 



56 MY WAR DIARY 

Charlotte thought she had better go with her 
mother: Mme. de R., who has a place near Tours, 
would take them in for a week or ten days, and 
she might then perhaps join Francis at Cher- 
bourg. I quite agreed, as I should not have 
liked to keep them in Paris. They came here to 
say good-by to H., the boys much excited at 
all they had seen and heard. "You will never 
see Mareuil again, Danny; those wicked Germans 
are going to burn it.'* Perhaps, but I don't feel 
as if that was before us, and was rather comforted 
with what Percy Tiffany said — that Mareuil, being 
a stone house, would be difficult and long to bum. 
A band of Uhlans would not stay long enough. 

I went back with them to the rue d'Artois, 
and saw them all start at 12 punctually, in four 
large autos. The chauffeurs said they would get 
them to Orleans at 6. They couldn't bring any 
baggage, and had a wonderful collection of bags 
and bundles. I was delighted to see them go. 
Poor Mme. S. looked quite white and exhausted. 
It had been a great responsibility for her, as 
Francis left his wife and children in her charge, 
and I couldn't leave Henrietta. 

Tuesday, September ist. 
It is again very warm to-day, and we hear all 
sorts of rumours, that a great battle is going on at 
La Fere, at St. Quentin. The war news is so in- 
significant and I suppose it is right not to give 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 57 

details; but it is awful to think of battles going 
on, and not to know where any one is. 

I was all the afternoon at the ouvroir. We 
are sending off a pile of shirts and bandages to 
Meudon, where Mme. Marchand has the direction 
of an ambulance. Our Belgian friends are awfully 
down. No news of their children; many of their 
friends* chateaux burned, and probably their own. 
They always bring bad news; reduced Mme. G.*s 
maid to tears, saying that Sedan (her town) was 
burned, also Mezieres. I tried to reason with 
her as it is not possible that something would not 
have filtered through the lines if two such im- 
portant places had been destroyed. 

Palma M. came as usual to work with us, and 
told us the Government was leaving that evening 
for Bordeaux, all the Diplomatic Corps going 
with them. I am afraid it will frighten people. 
Their Ambassador, Tittoni, goes. He need not, as 
he is not representing a puissance belligerante, 
but he prefers to go and Ruspoli remains. Palma 
will stay with him. 

We walked, quite a band of us, the Mygatts 
and Olive Tiffany, down the Boulevard Hauss- 
mann, as far as Potin's, to see what was going on. 
Just as we got to the place we heard two or three 
loud explosions, then several rifle-shots. Every- 
body rushed out, and we saw a German aeroplane 
with German flags disappearing over the barracks 
of La Pepiniere. There was great excitement in 



S8 MY WAR DIARY 

the streets, or rather curiosity, but no one seemed 
at all nervous. A policeman told us they had 
thrown their bombs on the Gare St. Lazare, but 
not much harm was done — one or two people 
hurt, no one killed. It is a curious sensation, all 
the same, to be walking about a quiet city in the 
waning evening light, with the possibility of a 
bomb falling on your head. I must confess it 
made me a little nervous. This was the first one 
I had really seen and heard. They have been 
coming for several days. 

After dinner the Ambassador and Mrs. Henick 
came to see us, on their way to the station to say 
good-by to their colleagues who are starting at 
lo o'clock for Bordeaux. The President left this 
afternoon by automobile Mr. Herrick says the 
situation is grave, but he doesn't think the Ger- 
mans will get into Paris. He intends to remain 
and see the end of the war. 

Wednesday, September 2nd. 
I went to the Red Cross this morning, but could 
not find Outrey. I wanted to ask him what he 
thought about our going away. It is so difficult 
to know where to go. There doesn't seem to be 
any room any^where. Orleans, Bordeaux, Caen 
crowded — the Prefet of Calvados has put an offi- 
cial communication in the paper from Caen, say- 
ing that there is literally not a bed to be had at 
Caen. People are sleeping at the station, and in 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 59 

the courts of some of the public buildings. Marie 
suggests that we should go to Les Aulneaux, a 
small hamlet in the department of La Sarthe — 
hardly a village, though it has got a mayor — ■ 
where her daughter Femande is schoolmistress 
and adjointe to the mayor. She has a nice house 
with a big court and garden, and two rooms, 
where she could make us very comfortable — 
about four hours from Paris. I talked it over with 
H., who does not want to leave Paris. 

I had a line from Charlotte, from Tours. They 
made their journey very easily to Orleans, arriving 
before 6. But their night was trying. No rooms 
in any of the hotels, nor yet chez I'habitant (the 
peasant or workman). They finally got a small 
room in a hotel, where Mme. Sallandrouze, Char- 
lotte, and Madeleine slept. The jeune menage 
(Jean's) in a dressing-room. Maggie (the Eng- 
lish nurse) with the two boys, and three Sallan- 
drouze servants slept in one room, on mattresses 
on the floor, with ten other people — the boys, of 
course, enjoying it madly. Everything a delight- 
ful novelty. Frank said to Henrietta on Monday: 
''It's such fun to be travelling in a fourgon (bag- 
gage-wagon) with soldiers; you would like it.'* 
They had got to Tours, and C. was leaving at once 
with the children for Cherbourg, to be with 
Francis. If only he can stay there, but they are 
moving Territorials to the front. 

I went with Mr. Herrick in the afternoon to the 



6o MY WAR DIARY 

American Ambulance. They have taken the Ly- 
cee Pasteur — a fine new building at Neuilly, and 
can make one thousand beds, though they begin 
with less. All the arrangements are perfect, large, 
high rooms and corridors, and wide cotuts. I 
should think there was almost too much space. 
The work will be heavy on the nurses — all Ameri- 
can and British, and all voluntary. We went all 
over the building, wards, operating-rooms, lingerie, 
kitchen. There were no wounded yet, and they 
won't have any imtil the fighting near Paris be- 
gins. I wanted a model of a sort of loose, sleeve- 
less flannel jacket I saw at the lingerie. It looked 
so comfortable for men sitting up in their beds; 
they only had one, and would have lent it to me, 
but the Ambassadress said she would send me 
one from the rectory, where they sew every after- 
noon. 

I found the ouvroir very blue. The Mygatts 
think they must go. He has business in America, 
and is afraid he might not get out of Paris if he 
remained much longer. Every day the papers 
say it is the last day that automobiles can get 
out of Paris — ^but I think one could always get a 
pass. They don't want to leave us, but I don't 
think H. can undertake a long journey either 
in an auto or in a crowded train. Mygatt had 
found a man with a camion (a dray) of one horse, 
which would take him, his family, and his bag- 
gage out of Paris. They have their auto and 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 6i 

have found a good chauffeiir, very well recom- 
mended. But they must have a special permit 
to take the auto out of Paris. They quite saw 
that it would be impossible for H. to go any 
distance in an ordinary cart; and as we decided 
it was out of the question for us, they said they 
would propose it to the Tiffanys. He, too, has 
business, and wants to get out of Paris. H. 
and I talked it over after dinner without arriving 
at any conclusion. The Tiffanys came in the 
evening to say they were going — so our friends 
seem deserting us. 

At lo o'clock a line came to me from the Em- 
bassy, telling Mygatt the Ambassador would see 
him at 9 the next morning. He had written to 
the Ambassador to ask if he could get the pass for 
him, so I sent it to him at once. 

Thursday, September 3rd. 
The news doesn't seem very good this morn- 
ing. There are reports that the Germans have 
blown up the Pontoise bridge over the Seine, and 
that we have done the same at Sevres. I don't 
feel very happy, though in my heart I don't be- 
lieve the Germans will come into Paris; but a 
cannonade near, with possible shells falling about 
promiscuously, wouldn't make Paris a very pleas- 
ant place to stay in. While I was hesitating, 
Henry Outrey came in with a man from the 
Croix Rouge, who had helped a good many peo- 



62 MY WAR DIARY 

pie to get away, and who strongly advised our 
going — Henry, too. He would take our tickets 
and places in the last special train that leaves 
to-morrow. I consulted H., who didn't want to 
go at all, was not in the least nervous, and 
dreaded the journey; but I was uncomfortable, 
and we decided to start to-morrow morning. 
Marie had written and telegraphed to her daugh- 
ter that we might perhaps come. We couldn't 
take any baggage — ^merely bags and bimdles; 
but the man said he would send our trunks on 
by Grande Vitesse, with the Red Cross labels, 
which always pass first. 

We were very busy all the afternoon, making 
otir preparations. We only packed two small 
trunks as we did not think we would need much 
in the way of toilettes at Les Aulneaux; but there 
were things to be put away in the apartment. 
We leave no one in it, but the Ambassador will 
have a notice put on the door, saying it is in- 
habited by Americans, and the Concierge has also 
a paper to show. That is another of the many 
small things Mr. Herrick has done to help such 
of his compatriots as were obliged to stay in 
Paris. All property owned by or let to Americans 
has been marked. The only thing he couldn't 
do was to put such marks on people walking about 
the streets. We must all take our chance with 
bombs. 

About 5 o'clock I walked over to the ouvroir 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 63 

in the Boulevard Haussmann, stopping a moment 
at the Church of St. Phihppe, where there are 
always women kneeling at the little chapels. 
The poor ouvroir looked quite deserted, but there 
were piles of shirts, calegons, and bandages ready 
to be sent off. I gave the woman in charge direc- 
tions where to send them. She has some money 
in hand, and will go on with her work until I 
come back — I hope in about three weeks. Mme. 
Mygatt must, of course, be longer away, as she 
is going to America. 

As I walked home the streets were full of peo- 
ple looking out for the German aeroplanes, but 
none had appeared — either the Ambassador*s re- 
monstrances to the Government at home, asking 
them to protest at Berlin against such traitorous 
modes of warfare, or else the sight of the French 
armed aeroplanes had frightened them. The 
crowd wasn't at all nervous, remarking cheerfully : 
*'Ah, I'Allemand ne vient pas ce soir; on I'aurait 
bien regu pourtant!" ("The German doesn't 
come this evening; he would have been well re- 
ceived!") 

After dinner Outrey came, and we walked down 
to the Embassy, where there were a good many 
people coming and going — among others, Mr. 
Bacon,* just arrived. He belongs to the Franco- 
American Committee, and has come over to help 
us in whatever way he can. The Ambassador said 

* Who was Ambassador just before Mr. Herrick. 



64 MY WAR DIARY 

there was no later news. He thouglit we had 
better leave Paris. We had nothing particular 
to keep us here. If there should be a long siege 
we would be weeks without hearing from Francis, 
and might be greatly inconvenienced by want of 
proper food. All the old stories of the horrors 
that people ate in *7o came back to me — cats, 
rats, and glad to have them ! 

It was perfectly dark when we came out of the 
Embassy, not a light anywhere, only the search- 
lights from the Toiur Eiffel and the Automobile 
Club, throwing a weird, yellow gleam for an in- 
stant over everything. Our street absolutely 
black. We groped our way along. 

Friday, September 4th. 
We are quite ready — start at 12.30. I wonder 
what sort of a Paris we shall find when we get 
back — and I also wonder if we are right to go. 
There is every conceivable rumour in the air. 
Germans at St. Germain — Paris fortifications 
weak on that side. Paris population discouraged 
— ^yet in my heart I don't believe the Germans 
will get into Paris. 

Dimanche, 6 septembre. 

I leave the mairie paper, Dear; by that you 

may see where we are. It all seems an awful 

dream. The sudden decision to leave Paris (I 

don't know now if we did right), and the long, 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 65 

tiring journey; the emotion at meeting soldiers 
all along the route — these going to the front, 
cheering and laughing, promising German bullets 
and sword-belts to the women who crowded around 
the trains; the young recruits, just twenty, of 
the class of this year called out, some of them 
looking mere children — they too, gay, with one or 
two exceptions — ^but I must begin at the begin- 
ning. 

H. did not want to leave Paris — dreaded the 
journey, and is convinced the Germans will never 
get into Paris (and I think she is right), nor ever 
near enough to make life difficult; however, all 
our friends were going. Every day we saw the 
official order that after Friday no one could leave 
Paris by auto, nor perhaps by train. Henry 
Outrey, who is working with one of the generals 
in Paris, and also at the Croix Rouge, advised us 
to leave when we could; he would arrange for 
tickets, places, etc. 

I can't say our lives had changed very much 
since the declaration of war. The market was 
just as good; we could get everything we wanted 
and no dearer than in ordinary times, in fact, 
fruit and certain vegetables cheaper, as the marat- 
chers (market-gardeners) wanted to sell at any 
price. We had made no extra provisions. The 
street was gloomy at nights; no more lights, and 
hardly any one in the houses, we the only people 
left in ours. It was rather sad looking down 



66 MY WAR DIARY 

from our balcony on the perfectly dark street — 
empty, no soiinds of life. I haven't heard a 
laugh for weeks, and it was a relief to hear the 
hoofs of the horses of the cavalry patrol which 
passes every night in the rue Frangois P'^. I 
went on Wednesday to ask Ambassador Herrick 
for a pass for a friend of mine, Mr. M., who wanted 
to get his auto out of Paris, and he advised us to 
go to the Invalides, where the military governor 
of Paris lives, and show his card. M. came for 
me and it was most interesting to see the Espla- 
nade des Invalides; at one end rows of autos 
drawn up which are being requisitioned for the 
army, quantities of officers in every direction 
looking very busy, but perfectly cheerful, not- 
withstanding the reports that we had heard in 
the morning that the Pontoise bridge was blown 
up by the Germans, and the Sevres bridge by the 
French. 

We waited some time in spite of the Ambas- 
sador's letter and my Red Cross badge, but were 
finally received by the officer in charge. We ex- 
plained that we wished to go out of Paris that 
afternoon in the auto. *'In what direction, Ma- 
dame?" **Chartres." **Then go as quickly as 
possible." ''You really think that?" "I have 
no doubt of it and beg you will go at once." 

Mr. M. had already made his arrangements to 
leave. He had chartered two drays of one horse 
each for himself and his family (they were four) 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 67 

and his luggage, from which he would not separate 
himself, as he was going to America, and hoped to 
get down to the coast eventually. He wanted us 
to take his auto, but it had not been going very 
well lately. He had a new chauffeur whom he 
knew nothing about. I didn't dare venture, we 
three women alone, H. hardly walking; so, most 
reluctantly, they started without us. We de- 
cided to leave Friday at 2 o'clock by special train 
for this place, stopping the night at Conches or 
Laigle. We had no baggage, only what we could 
carry. H. was very plucky — didn't want to leave 
Paris — ^but I was nervous. I went out to our 
ouvroir late Thursday afternoon to give certain 
last instructions to the woman Mrs. M., whom I 
left in charge, telling her to send the garments 
which were already made to one or two ambulances 
where we had promised them, and left her some 
money to go on with the work. After dinner I 
went to the Embassy to say good-bye to the Her- 
ricks in case they should leave before we got 
back. There were a good many people there 
coming and going. Mr. Bacon just arrived to 
give us what help he can in our dark days. Mr. 
Warren remains too, having sent his wife and 
children home. The Americans have all been so 
sympathetic to France since the war began. It 
must be a most disagreeable surprise for the 
Kaiser, one of the many, I think, that are in 
store for him. Mr. Herrick is wonderful, quite 



68 MY WAR DIARY 

cool, thinking of everybody, and not sparing him- 
self in the least, working as hard and as late as 
any of his secretaries. Neither French nor 
Americans will ever forget what he has done here, 
and, of course, his remaining in Paris has reas- 
svired people very much. 

We started Friday at 12 o'clock from the 
house (the train started at 2.15 from the Gare St. 
Lazare). Henry came to take us to the station, 
and I really think our bags and valises were very 
creditable for ladies accustomed to travel with 
everything they wanted. We took as little as 
possible, but, of course, had to provide for the 
possibility of never seeing our trunks again. 
They — two small ones — were sent by Grande 
Vitesse, with Red Cross labels, as all Red Cross 
baggage goes first. The Gare St. Lazare was a 
curiosity, crowded with people, quantities of chil- 
dren, and the most remarkable collection of bags, 
bundles, and household goods possible. We found 
already six people in our carriage and a child. 
Marie was obliged to take a place in a second- 
class carriage (she had a first-class ticket) to be 
near us. It is a long pull down the platform to 
the train. H. was very nervous, but got along 
pretty well, sitting down whenever she could. 
We hoped to get to Laigle or Conches about 7 
o'clock, but telegraphed for rooms at both places. 
Henry recommended us warmly to the people 
who were already in the carriage. There were 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 69 

two parties — ^father, mother, and son going to 
Brittany, and a young mother, child, and two 
grandparents bound for Houlgate. 

We started at 2.15, having been in the train 
since 12.30, and remained in it till 8 the next 
morning. It was an awful journey. We changed 
our direction many times, backing, turning (at 
one time we went back nearly to Versailles), and 
waiting at the stations to let pass the military 
trains. We met a great many — sometimes sol- 
diers going to the front, sometimes wounded, and 
always refugees at all the stations, and we stopped 
at every one. There were crowds of people sit- 
ting on their valises, or on the floor, clamouring 
for seats. I was afraid we would have many more 
people standing (all the seats were taken) in our 
compartment, but we managed to keep them out. 
At Mantes we crossed a train of English troops, 
and very well and fresh and young they looked 
in their khakis. They fraternised instantly with 
the French soldiers, and ran across the track to 
speak to us. I asked them where they came from : 
from the frontier, on their way to Rouen for pro- 
visions and ammunition. There were great cheers 
and waving of caps and handkerchiefs when the 
train started. As the evening went on it became 
most evident that we could not get to Conches 
or Laigle at any possible hour, and we all made 
up our minds that we must stay the night in the 
train. The chefs de gare looked anxious and 



70 MY WAR DIARY 

overwT-orked wherever we stopped, but were per- 
fectly good-humoured, as was everybody, answer- 
ing civilly and as well as they could to all the 
questions. All the gares were occupied by sol- 
diers, and the line guarded. We got to Dreux 
about I in the morning, and backed and stopped 
and were shunted for more than an hour. Some 
distracted English pursued the chef de gare with 
questions. "Monsieur, quand arriverons-nous k 
Caen?" "Ah, Madame, si vous pouviez me le 
dire !" They told us the town was full of people, 
no room anywhere, people sleeping in the gare 
and outside on the platforms. The station was 
as animated as if it were i o'clock in the afternoon. 
Everybody got out, even the twenty-months-old 
baby, who played about and was wide-awake and 
perfectly good. Happily it was a beautiful, warm 
stmimer night, with a full golden Septembe/moon, 
the harvest moon. That makes me think of one 
of the numerous prophecies which encourage the 
people in these awful days: 

"Les hommes commenceront la moisson, les 
femmes la finiront; les femmes commenceront 
les vendanges, les hommes les finiront." ("The 
men will begin the harvest, the women will finish 
it; the women will begin the vintage, the men 
will finish it.") 

They are getting in the harvest quickly. All 
along the route women and children are working 
in the fields. The weather is so beautiful, warm 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 71 

and dry and bright, that they can work long hours 
and not have too much time to think of the 
mournings that surely are coming to some of 
them. 

We got through our night well. The baby was 
perfectly good, slept all night in its grandmother's 
arms. She could hardly move her arm in the 
morning. The poor woman was so warmly " 
dressed she was most tmcomfortable. Like all 
the rest of us, she too had started suddenly and 
coiild take no baggage, so she had two extra 
petticoats and another cloth skirt under her or- 
dinary dress and petticoat; she said the weight 
was awful. Everybody shared whatever she had, 
water, biscuits, chocolate, but none of us were 
himgry. At Evreux, where we waited a long 
time, a train went off with soldiers to the front, 
all singing the "Marseillaise," and laughing and 
cheering. Some of the Red Cross nurses were 
on the quai, but there were no wounded while we 
were there. They told us a train of wounded 
had passed in the night. H. was as plucky as 
possible; I was worried to death about her. She 
is kept so carefully and watched over so at home 
that I didn't see how she could stand all those 
hours sitting bolt upright in the carriage, but she 
did, and is none the worse for it. 

We got to Laigle at 9 Saturday morning; 
walked over to the hotel opposite the gare and 
got a nice clean room with hot water, where we 



72 MY WAR DIARY 

could arrange ourselves a little. We had very 
good cafe au lait and pain de menage on the ter- 
race, with soldiers, refugees, and people leaving 
Paris. Everybody talked to everybody, but no 
one knew any more of the war than we did. We 
left H. sitting on a very hard stone bench with 
her knitting, and Marie and I went for a stroll. 
It is a pretty little town with a fine market-place, 
and a modem chateau standing in a wood at the 
top. In the eleventh century there was a fine 
chdteau-fort built by the first Marquis de Laigle, 
which was destroyed by the English in 141 9. 
This one is built on the site of the old one. The 
park has been cut up, but some of the old trees 
remain and are splendid, and we had charming 
glimpses of the river in the distance. There are 
handsome, coloured-glass windows in the church 
of St. Martin. We didn't see many soldiers, 
though they told us they had four hundred to five 
himdred woimded, but we met many Belgian ref- 
ugees, looking so sad and weary, with a pathetic, 
half-dazed expression in their blue eyes. They try 
to give both men and women work in the fields. 
While we were at the gare after breakfast, try- 
ing to get some information about our train, we 
heard the dnim, the generale, which means some- 
thing serious. In an instant the little place was 
black with people. All one's nerves are on edge, 
and we saw instantly bands of Uhlans in the dis- 
tance. However, the announcement was not 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 73 

tragic, though significant: "Defense de porter le 
pain dans la ville." (** Carrying bread in the 
city forbidden.") It tells that one is put upon 
war rations and everybody must go and get his 
bread, which, in the big cities, means standing for 
hours in the crowd at the baker's door. 

We started at 4 for Mortague, where, in ordi- 
nary times, one arrives in two hours, but we only 
got there at 8. We were told we could get good 
accommodation there for the night. Again a 
great crowd at the station — ^whole families of 
women and children, and travellers sitting on 
their bags ; military trains and long provision and 
forage trains passing in rapid succession, every- 
thing making way for them. It is curious to 
travel when the country is imder martial law. 
Most of the employees of the railways are with 
the army, their places taken by soldiers who 
guard the stations. We had a number of young 
recruits on board — the class of 19 14, which, 
properly, should only have been called to the 
colours this October. At all the stations we picked 
up others, their fathers and mothers and families 
generally coming to wish them good-bye and good 
luck, all the boys as gay and lively as if they 
were going off to a country fair; all manner of 
jokes about *'Guillaume" and promises to bring 
back buttons and cartouches from Germany. One 
young fellow came into our compartment. He 
looked refined and delicate (I shouldn't think 



74 MY WAR DIARY 

he could stand much hard work), of good birth 
and manners, and evidently didn't care for the 
rough jokes of his companions. He told us he was 
just twenty, a Parisian, only child of his parents, 
had nine first cousins in the war. One saw he 
was accustomed to the good things of the world. 
He made a very good meal from a nice basket he 
had with him, winding up with bonbons and a 
large piece of cake. He helped us to take down 
our bags when we arrived at Mortague and looked 
perfectly miserable when we shook hands and 
hoped he would get along all right. Poor child ! 
I am sure he cried a little when he was alone in 
the carriage. If we think twenty is young, what 
must the German mothers feel whose sons are 
called out at sixteen ? 

There were just the same scenes when we ar- 
rived at Mortague — ^people everywhere, not a 
room to be had at any hotel or any house in the 
town. I must confess to a moment of profound 
discouragement when Marie and one of the 
soldier-porters went off to see what they could 
find. H. and I remained at the station, she seated 
on a baggage-truck in the middle of the bags. 
We waited some time, nobody reappearing, and 
I saw the moment when I must ask the chef de 
gare to let us sleep in a first-class carriage in the 
station. When they finally came back, Marie 
and the two men, they said there was nothing to 
be had in the town, but the men knew a lady — 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 75 

une brave dame — ^who kept a small pension for the 
railway employees; they thought she could take us 
in, but it was at a little distance from the town. 

Then came the difficulty of transporting H. 
There were no carriages of any kind ; she couldn't 
walk. It was late, 9.30; perfectly dark; a /'petit 
bout de chemin" might mean anything, from one 
kilometre to three. However, somebody had a 
brilliant idea. The men said they would get an- 
other porter who would carry our baggage, and 
they would wheel H. on the truck. She didn't 
like it much, poor dear, but they promised to go 
carefully, so we started, one porter in front, carry- 
ing a lantern, another alongside with all our bags, 
the third wheeling the truck, Marie and I on each 
vside, so that H. couldn't fall off. It was a won- 
derful procession. We crossed the track, followed 
the road for a short time, and then began to go 
down a steep, rough path, the man asking both 
me and Marie to hold the truck back. It was 
such a ridiculous plight that we couldn't take it 
tragically, but I was thankful when we stopped. 

At the end of the path we came to a garden and 
a nice house with open windows and lights which 
looked friendly. A nice-looking, gray-haired 
woman, attired in a black-and-white dressing- 
gown, opened the door and showed us into a small 
room where a man was supping. She said she 
could only give us one little room, as her best one 
was given to two wounded soldiers she had taken 



76 MY WAR DIARY 

in, but she would give us two clean beds, and find 
something — a mattress on the floor perhaps — ^for 
the maid, and would give us something to eat. 
We had a good omelet, bread and butter and cider, 
and talked to the man, who was an inspector of 
telegraphs. The poor old lady was very worried 
at the very little she could give us, but Marie re- 
assured her, and after hearing a great noise of 
moving furniture over our heads she reappeared 
with nice clean linen sheets, and Marie went up- 
stairs with her to help make the beds. We con- 
sulted the porter who wheeled H. down about 
the way of getting to Le Mele the next day (one 
train was at 4.30 in the morning, another at 9 at 
night, arriving Heaven knows when). He ad- 
vised taking an auto ; knew the patron of one very 
well; would go at once and ask him if he would 
take us direct to Les Aulneaux, and would come 
back with the answer. He returned before we 
went up-stairs, saying the man would come for 
us the next morning at 10 o'clock. 

I was so tired I was asleep, sitting up in a 
straight-backed chair. H. and I had a very nice 
clean room, a lovely garden smell coming in from 
the open window, and not a sound except trains 
moving all night. We slept perfectly well. Marie 
had a mattress on two chairs in the corridor just 
outside our room, with her dog, a wise little fox- 
terrier, to take care of her. I was up early and 
had very good cafe au lait, a fresh egg, and bread 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 77 

and butter, and talked a little to the man of the 
telegraph, who was most hopeful about the war — 
said wherever he went in any class, there was the 
same spirit of dogged resistance to the Germans; 
they would fight to the last man and woman. 

When he had gone the old lady appeared with 
many apologies for the poor accommodation 
she had given us; she would like to present 
her two blesses to us; so as soon as H. ap- 
peared she brought them — two fine, good-looking 
young fellows, fantassins (infantry), about twenty- 
six and thirty; one married just six months ago. 
They had been wounded in the Ardennes, not very 
badly, each in the arm, and were dying to go 
back. The younger one can soon go; the other's 
case was more serious. They had just come 
from the hospital at Rheims (which is near Ma- 
reuil), as the hospital had been evacuated. We 
asked them if they had plenty to eat when they 
were fighting. They said always plenty and very 
good, and wherever they passed on their way 
back everybody was good to them, bringing them 
wine, cigarettes, flowers. They told us a funny 
story about one of their comrades here, in one of 
the Algerian regiments. He appeared after the 
fight slightly wounded, but with a very good 
bicycle, explaining in his funny French: **Moi 
tue quatre Prussiens, puis pris bicyclette." He 
was in great request with his bicyclette as he got 
better. He had been wounded in the head; 



78 MY WAR DIARY 

** petite chose/' he said, but was able to go about 
the country and do errands. I walked about the 
garden while we were waiting for the auto, and 
when I saw by daylight the steep, stony path we 
had taken last night I really wondered how H. 
and her truck ever got down and how she ever 
stayed on it. 

The auto with the patron himself driving came 
at lo o'clock and we went first to the town to 
lay in some provisions. Femande had not an- 
swered any of her mother's letters, and this 
is such an out-of-the-way place that it would 
not have been safe to arrive without certain 
precautions. The main street was full of sol- 
diers ; there are six hundred wounded and walking 
about with arms in slings and bandaged legs and 
heads, all most cheerful. We met the two of our 
house, who waved to us in the most friendly 
fashion. We had a charming drive, about an 
hour to this little place, through lovely country 
— all green fields, hedges, and fine trees; few vil- 
lages, almost all farms and grazing coimtry — 
cows, horses, and colts in the fields. We arrived 
about 11.30 just as the congregation was coming 
out of church, and you can imagine the sensation 
we made in the auto, crammed with bags and 
parcels of every description. Femande was quite 
bewildered, as she had received none of her 
mother's letters, and three extra people in a small 
house is a serious thing. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 79 

Monday, September 7th. 
It is an enchanting summer day. We all seem 
living in a dream. Fernande is the daughter of 
H.'s Marie, who has been with her for over nine- 
teen years. She is a schoolmistress here and is 
adjointe* to the maire, and lives in the mairie. 
It is a very nice house, with three big rooms, a 
courtyard, and a garden, and a high airy class- 
room whichVe used as a salon. All day yesterday 
they were arranging two rooms for us. Every- 
body in the village, from the ciu-e, who lent a 
fauteuil, to the mayor, who lent a bed, contrib- 
uting something. A farmer's wife brought a 
bottle of fresh milk, and everybody gave a help- 
ing hand. Fernande went to the nearest big 
town, Mamers, yesterday with a long list — two 
straw armchairs, portemanteaux to hang up our 
skirts and hats (if ever we see our trunks again 
and have anything to hang up), and some sttiff 
to cover tables (boxes! standing up on one end), 
etc. In all my experiences, which have been 
many and varied, I have never lived before in 
two rooms in a mairie, but I think we shall be 
perfectly comfortable and so quiet. There isn't 
a soimd, except the angelus, which rings twice a 
day, and makes us stop for a moment in what 
we are doing to think and pray for all our men in 
the thick of the fight. 

* Assistant. 



8o MY WAR DIARY 

Wednesday, September 9th. 

It is a most primitive little hamlet, about four- 
teen houses, a chiu'ch, mairie, and schoolhouse, 
one shop, just off the highroad to Mamers, the big 
town of the neighborhood, about ten kilometres 
away, almost hidden on the great stretches of 
fields and orchards which open out in all direc- 
tions. It is a great grazing country; there are 
plenty of cows, horses, and long-legged colts in 
all the fields, and even the smallest farmer has 
eight or ten beasts. They sell the horses very 
well — one thousand five hundred or two thousand 
francs — which makes them a very good income, 
independent of what the farm brings. Now, of 
course, there are no men anywhere. The women 
and old men do all the work. 

I went to see the cure this afternoon. He has 
a nice house with a big garden and orchard next 
the church. He opened the door for me and 
asked me to come in — into the kitchen, where a 
bright wood-fire was burning and a nice-looking 
woman sitting sewing at the window, whom he 
introduced as his aunt. He is tall, slight, a gentle- 
man in manner; had on an old soutane, with a 
blue gardener's apron over it. He excused him- 
self for receiving me in such dress, but he was 
working in his garden. I sat there about ten 
minutes telling him all I knew, which wasn't 
much, but my news from Paris was more re- 
cent than anything he had heard. I asked him 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 8i 

if I might play on the harmonium; he said as 
much as I liked, but he was afraid a Parisienne 
would not find it very good. It had been seven- 
teen years in the church and a good deal knocked 
about by people who did not know how to use it. 
I thanked him for the fauteuil, and he asked me if 
I would like to have a sofa; he had one in his 
salon, which we went to see, but I don't think I 
shall indulge in such a luxury as a red velvet sofa 
in my room. Another time he will show me his 
house and garden and orchard. The house looks 
large and roomy. It seems he has four very good 
rooms up-stairs which he would let, but there is 
no furniture; we would have to hire it from Ma- 
mers, which wouldn't be worth while if we only 
stay to the end of the month, which I hope. 
Besides, we shotdd be less free staying at the 
Presbytere. Here we are perfectly comfortable 
with three women to look after us — Marie, Fer- 
nande, and a cousin from Belfort — an Inspectrice 
d'Ecoles, such a nice woman, obliged to leave Bel- 
fort, which was threatened at one time — ^her hus- 
band with the army. However, I don't think 
the Germans will tackle Belfort this time. They 
know quite well how strongly it is fortified, and 
they need all their troops to stand the desperate 
resistance they will meet before Paris. We talked 
a little, of course, of the state of France and how 
this awful war had been sprung upon her, the cure 
saying she deserved it as a chastisement for the 



82 MY WAR DIARY 

wickedness and immorality of the country. I 
didn't pursue that conversation, as it seems hard 
to visit the iniquities of the big towns which have 
always existed upon the thousands of brave, 
honest men, good husbands and fathers, leaving 
all they have in the world and fighting bravely 
and cheerfully for their country. 

Friday, September nth. 
We are settling down to our life in this quiet 
little comer of France. If only we had more 
commimication with Paris and the rest of France. 
I get a walk every morning and already know all 
the village. I stopped to talk to a nice-looking 
girl the other day who had a baby in her arms, 
its father, her brother, at the front. She invited 
me to come in and I found a nice, clean peasant's 
house; her father and mother very respectable, 
speaking quite intelligibly. Sometimes their 
French — not exactly a patois, but with a curious 
accent — ^is hard to understand. They knew all 
about us; had seen us arrive at the schoolhouse 
in the automobile, and were most curious for news 
from Paris. They offered me a drink — ^wine, 
milk, or cider — ^but I excused myself on the plea 
of its being early in the morning. The country 
is lovely, like walking through an English park; 
no fences anywhere; green banks, high hedges, 
and splendid pasture-fields. I don't see much 
cultivation; I fancy horses and farm products are 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 83 

the principal resoiirces. H. and I go every day 
about 6 o'clock to the church, which we have to 
ourselves, and have arranged a little service. I 
play and sing some hymns or bits of Beethoven. 
The harmonium isn't bad, only I have so little 
the habit of playing an organ that I forget the 
pedals sometimes, and then the music stops with 
a sort of wheeze. I always finish with the even- 
ing hymn: ''Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear," 
"God save the King," and the Russian hymn. 
I don't dare play the "Marseillaise" in the 
church. It would upset the cure dreadfully, 
and yet it is too bad not to play sometimes for 
our soldiers. The next time any one goes to 
Mamers I will ask them to bring me back the 
famous marche of "Sambre et Meuse," which our 
troops love to march to. 

We had a good mail this morning: letters a 
little old, and papers the second day from Paris; 
also a telegram from Charlotte, from Cherboiu-g, 
where she has joined Francis. She is trying to 
find a small house there — says the boys are highly 
excited seeing their father in imiform. The war 
news is good, the Germans retreating. For the 
moment they seem to have given up their march 
on Paris; I wonder why. 

Sunday, September 13th. 
Yesterday was rather a wild day, raining and 
blowing. However, I got out between the show- 



84 MY WAR DIARY 

ers. Still nothing of our trunks, which were sent 
off two days after us (just a week ago). We man- 
age pretty well. Our next-door neighbor washes 
our linen, and our serge dresses hold out. We 
each had an extra blouse in our bags. We hear 
all sorts of reports. In a letter to-day from Anne 
Morgan, written from her convent in England, 
she says : * ' The great event in our quiet lives has 
been the passing of the Cosaques at our little sta- 
tion at Norton bridge. I am sorry I could not 
go and see them; all the countryside was much 
excited." They are a wild lot, particularly the 
red Cosaques. They are dressed in red, have 
long red lances, and ride small, red bay horses. 
We saw them in Moscow at the coronation of 
Alexander III. They patrolled the streets to 
keep the crowd back — such a patient, long-suffer- 
ing crowd. Sometimes they backed their horses 
vigorously into the mass of people ; no one seemed 
to mind ; the ranks thinned out a little but formed 
again instantly. Sometimes they charged down 
the street full gallop, brandishing their lances and 
yelling in the most awful way. Even in times of 
peace it was enough to strike terror into the 
stoutest heart. The Russians seem to have anni- 
hilated the Austrians, who certainly have not 
proved themselves a very formidable foe. I don't 
think they will find it so easy with the Germans, 
who will certainly make a desperate resistance 
before Berlin. For some reason we don't know, 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 85 

the Germans are not advancing on Paris and are 
retreating steadily toward the southeast — sixty 
kilometres — pursued by the French and English, 
who have taken cannon and prisoners. The fight- 
ing must have been awful, day after day, and even 
the very meagre official reports say there were 
great losses on both sides. It is heart-breaking 
to think of the mournings there will be in France 
when the lists are published. A whole generation 
in the flower of their strength and youth cut down 
on accoimt of one man's wicked ambition. 

The mayor, who comes to see us every night, 
brought a report yesterday that two of the Em- 
peror's sons were terribly wounded and the Em- 
press gone out of her mind. If it is true, as 
many people say, that she wanted the war, and 
arranged it all with the Crown Prince while the 
Emperor was cruising, her punishment has come 
quickly. 

This morning I went to church, a simple coun- 
try service; more men than I expected to see. 
The melodeon was played by a small boy with 
one finger, but he did sound the notes. The 
chantre, having gone to the war, was replaced by 
an elderly gentleman who did his best, but wasn't 
always of the same key as the instrument. Then 
the cure intervened and brought him back to the 
right note. The congregation looked respectable 
and well-to-do. Femande says there are no poor 
in the village. All the little girls had their hair 



86 MY WAR DIARY 

neatly braided in pigtails down their backs, tied 
with a blue or white ribbon. All the women wear 
the coiffe of the country, a white muslin cap with 
a very full crown falling low at the back of the 
neck, a bow of muslin on the top. Some of the 
rich farmers' wives have four or five in their trous- 
seau, which last all their lives and go to their 
daughters after them. When they are hand- 
embroidered they are quite expensive. A young 
woman came to see Marie the other day with a 
very pretty one which was given to her when she 
married, and which cost seventy-five francs. 
Marie asked her if she wouldn't like to wear a 
hat, but she said not at all, and that her husband 
wouldn't let her. "Une fermiere doit porter la 
coiffe du pays." The girls wear hats but simple 
ones, not so many flowers and feathers as our 
girls in Mareuil. Some of the farmers are very 
rich. One of them married his daughter some 
time ago and gave her a trousseau, linen sheets 
and table-linen, and beasts, which would have 
been a fortune in Paris. The wedding festivities 
went on for a week, all the countryside feasting 
at the farm. He is said to have spent five thou- 
sand francs on the entertainment. 

Thursday, September 17th. 
We are having beautiful, golden September 
days, but the evenings are chilly. I walk about 
in the mornings. All the women come to the 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 87 

doors of their cottages and ask me to come in. 
It is curious to see no men except very, very old 
ones, the women doing all the work. Every morn- 
ing I meet a girl about twelve years old, moimted 
astride on a big farm-horse; a little later she ap- 
pears on another; evidently takes the horses to 
the field, which the women plough. It is only 
in the country that one realises the war and the 
difficulty of transport and provisions. The farm- 
ers are afraid even their poor old horses will 
be taken away; all the best ones have already 
gone. 

Our trunks have arrived and we are more com- 
fortable. Until they came we didn't like to go 
out in the rain, as, if we got our skirts wet, we had 
nothing to change. We are rather short in books. 
I read so much to H. that we are very dependent 
upon books and papers. Fernande has put the 
*'Bibliotheque Scolaire'* at our disposition, and 
that may keep us on a little. I have found a 
history of France by Lavisse, much abridged and 
simplified. Still it will put the main facts back 
in our heads, and I shall be able to answer the 
boys' questions when we all of us get back to 
Paris again. I was very embarrassed when they 
were beginning their Bible history to find how 
little I remembered about the misfortimes of 
Tobit and various Kings of Judah. There is also 
in the library a translation of * 'Uncle Tom's 
Cabin" and the "Last of the Mohicans," so you 



88 MY WAR DIARY 

see we are not very modern in this quiet little cor- 
ner of France, The happy days in Mareuil seem 
so far off. We have had such beautiful September 
days there, the men shooting partridges all day, 
we women joining them at tea-time in the keep- 
er's cottage, and the lovely walk home across the 
fields, the soft evening light making everything 
a picture — a peasant woman crossing the field, 
her baby tied in a red shawl on the back, the man 
ploughing, his white oxen standing out against 
the sky-line, and always in the distance the purple 
line of the Villers-Cotterets forest. 

In a letter from Tours from Madame Sallan- 
drouze, received this morning, she spoke of the con- 
stant passage of wounded soldiers, both French 
and English, at the station. All the ladies take 
them fruit, wine, cigarettes, and above all post- 
cards. Both Renee and Madeleine speak Eng- 
lish well, and they say the poor men were so grate- 
ful to have postcards sent to their families. One 
young fellow said most respectfully to Madeleine : 
"Might I kiss you, mademoiselle?" She in- 
stantly gave him her cheek. One regiment had 
been to La Ferte-Milon and Mareuil the night of 
the 31st (the day Charlotte- and her family left) 
pursuing German cavalry who also passed through. 
As the Germans were retreating they probably 
didn't have time to stop and pillage or bum our 
house; however, we know nothing. Francis may 
have some news perhaps, but his letters are very 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 89 

rare, postal communication is very long, and the 
soldiers are forbidden to give any details about 
anything. 

Sunday, 20th September. 

We get through our days as well as we can, 
but it is terrible to have so little news. They are 
fighting hard over all parts of the country — Ger- 
mans perfect barbarians, burning, pillaging, shoot- 
ing perfectly innocent people. There will be a 
fearfid reckoning when the time comes. At 
church this morning the cure read us the bishop's 
letter announcing the election of the new Pope, 
Benoit XV, and ending with the prayer that he 
might be the means of restoring peace among na- 
tions. The service is the most primitive I have 
ever seen. The poor little boy who plays the 
harmonium with one finger got nervous this 
morning, lost his place completely. Every one 
waited — the cure turning round, saying, *'Try the 
Alleluia," but no sound was forthcoming. The 
cure and the chantre had it all their own way 
— and a very curious plain-chant it was. The 
chantre also made the quete. He had neither 
plate nor bag — held out his hand and every one 
put the offering in the hollow of the palm. 

It has been a beautiful day, a gorgeous sunset, 
but the evenings are decidedly chilly. I am get- 
ting a little nervous about staying much longer 
with H. If it begins to rain or we have a series 



90 MY WAR DIARY 

of foggy days — already a mist rises in the fields 
after sunset — this little house would be very 
damp — ^besides, I seem to get more news, such 
as it is, in Paris. Little things always leak out, 
and the few diplomatists who are left keep us 
well informed. 

Monday, 21st September. 
To-day Marie and I made an excursion to Ma- 
mers, the nearest big town, where there is a Sous- 
Prefecture, big hospital, and famous market. 
Monsieur le Maire drove us in his dog-cart, a 
most primitive little country equipage, with very 
high, broad wheels, and rather narrow seats. 
However, it was only twelve kilometres and he 
had a good little mare (just over two years old, 
too young to be requisitioned — all his good farm- 
horses being taken). He took us along at a fair 
rate. We picked up a friend, a nice-looking 
peasant woman, on the road; she was trudging 
along to market carrying a heavy basket in each 
hand — eggs in one, and pots of fresh yellow butter 
in the other. The route was charming, bordered 
on each side by high green banks and hedges. 
We ran for some time along M. d'AUieres's prop- 
erty (the man who stood against Caillaux in the 
last elections), in fact through his property, as 
he owned the land on each side. We went through 
fine oak woods, growing very thick, a clearing 
every now and then giving a beautiful far view 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 91 

over the plains. The mayor is a shrewd little 
man; talked a great deal; told me all he knew 
and I told him all I knew (with certain limita- 
tions). One of his remarks rather astonished me. 
We were talking, of coiirse, about the war, and 
how Germany had been preparing quietly and 
mobilising for months, while France, apparently, 
was quite unprepared. That, he remarked, was 
the fault of our Ambassador in Berlin, who ought 
to have known what was going on — that was what 
Ambassadors were sent to foreign countries for. 

Mamers is a pretty little country town, most 
animated to-day, market-day, and a most tempt- 
ing market it looked, all the women busy and 
energetic-looking, so nice with their clean stiff 
white coiffes, standing guard over their stalls. I 
never saw so many eggs and tubs of fresh yellow 
butter before in my life. There were quantities 
of soldiers everywhere, one regiment of chasseurs 
passing through on their way to the Marne, and 
some of the wounded walking about with heads 
and arms bandaged. The hospital is full; if 
there are any English woimded I will go and see 
them. We made various purchases and then 
went on to the gare — quite a walk — to ask about 
trains and the possibility of getting back to Paris. 
In the main street, just out of the market I saw 
an Infirmiere of the Croix Rouge in uniform. I 
went to speak to her to ask if there are any Eng- 
lish at the hospital. She was rather an attractive- 



92 MY WAR DIARY 

looking woman, a pretty smile and nice blue eyes. 
She was very civil, said there were no English at 
this moment, but that they were expecting a 
convoi. She would let me know if I would tell 
her where I was. I said it wasn't worth while; 
I was not at Mamers, but at a little village some 
distance — Les Aulneaux. She said that would 
make no difference, she could easily send word. 
I gave my name and we parted. The mayor said 
to me : ' ' Madame sait a qui elle a parle ? " " Non, 
pas du tout." "C'est Madame Caillaux, Ma- 
dame." I was rather annoyed. All that affair 
was so disgraceful. One felt ashamed of being a 
Frenchwoman. However, the conversation was 
of the briefest and most impersonal description. 
It was curious to come upon the lady the one day 
I was at Mamers. We walked through the Place 
de la Republique on oiu: way to the station, a 
broad, handsome avenue, with fine trees, good 
houses with gardens at the roadside, and quite an 
imposing Sous-Prefecture, with iron gates and 
good entrance. The station looked deserted — 
no sign of traffic, but the chef de gare told us that 
the trains ran regularly twice a day to and from 
Paris. He advised us to go at night. We would 
certainly have no trouble about seats, and it would 
be better to arrive in Paris at 6 or 7 in the morn- 
ing than at 12.30 or perhaps later at night, so I 
think we shall do that and leave Sunday. We 
went back to the market to pick up otu* bundles, 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 93 

and found everybody reading the Paris papers, 
and half-mad with rage. The Germans have 
bombarded and reduced to ruins the Cathedral 
of Rheims; there were explosions of indignation 
everywhere. Their conduct is inexplicable, to 
destroy for the pleasure of destroying and putting 
the whole civilised world against them. One can't 
imagine Rheims without that splendid old cathe- 
dral, so full of beauty and mystery and the old 
traditions of France — all her history. The mayor 
and one of his military friends with whom we took 
coffee before starting back, in a cafe filled with sol- 
diers and small farmers, were furious, and sug- 
gested that we would do well to burn the Cologne 
Cathedral when our troops get into Germany. 
One can't quite do that, but one might destroy 
the Royal Palace in Berlin and a few others of 
the hideous buildings which adorn the city. 

There was no special news from the war zone, 
but one serious measure — all the men up to forty- 
eight years old have been called out. Certainly 
life is made up of contrasts here. As I was 
jogging along very contentedly with the mayor, 
talking about the relative merits of oaks, which 
he knew about, and poplars, which I knew about, 
as a source of income, I asked myself if it could 
have been I who drove into the Kremlin in a gala 
carriage attired in *'a white satin gown, all fin- 
ished off with a golden crown," as the old song 
says. 



94 MY WAR DIARY 

Tuesday, September 22nd. 

Another beautiful day. One ought to be so 
happy merely to live in such weather, and when 
one thinks of all those who will never see their 
homes and woods and fields again, it is heart- 
rending. We have had a very good mail to-day, 
all the papers, of course, full of the bombardment 
of Rheims, the English and Americans most out- 
spoken. I shouldn't think Von Bemstorff's posi- 
tion in America was a very enviable one. I have 
a nice letter from Charlotte from Octeville, where 
she has found a nice little farmhouse, very clean, 
with four rooms, kitchen, sitting-room, and two 
bedrooms ; orchards, big garden — ^potager — a cow, 
chickens, and all sorts of vegetables. It is close 
to the cantonnement, so that Francis can come to 
dine and sleep every night. She is so happy, 
poor child, to be with Francis again. She has 
also found a nice, strong country girl to do the 
cooking and general work. Says the boys are 
quite well and happy, playing all _day in the 
fields and gardens. She has friends and relations 
at Cherbourg — ^twenty minutes* walk, and curi- 
ously enough it was at Cherbourg that she made 
Francis's acquaintance, when her father, Admiral 
Sallandrouze, commanded the Atlantic squadron 
and was stationed at Cherbourg. She and Nanna 
are going to work regularly at the Cherbourg 
hospital. 

I left off as I heard the boulangere's corne. 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 95 

She generally has news, and stops at the gate 
for a little talk. She hadn't any news, but gave 
her customers a disagreeable piece of informa- 
tion — she must raise her prices, and ask in the 
future twenty-four sous instead of twenty-three 
for the long loaf of bread which she supplies. The 
women protested, but she said her bags of flour 
had increased in price and diminished in size. 
She couldn't make both ends meet if she didn't 
ask more for her bread. She is mistress of the 
situation, as there is no other baker in the neigh- 
borhood. I suppose at the big farms they do 
make bread, but there would be no way of getting 
it ; the men are all away, and the women too busy 
to go and get it. Every day women come to 
the mairie to ask for news of their husbands and 
sons. One poor young thing with four small 
children is quite hopeless. Her husband was in 
all the fighting in Belgiimi ; wrote or sent messages 
at first ; since three weeks she has heard nothing. 
The nights are beautiful, the sky as blue almost 
as in the day, and myriads of stars. I wonder 
what horrors they look down upon. 

Wednesday, September 23rd. 
To-day Marie and I and the maire have been 
to the other big town, Le M^le; just the same 
lovely country, but more farms and fields than 
toward Mamers. I should think there was more 
culture. We passed one big farm where there were 



96 MY WAR DIARY 

quantities of stacks of wheat; the mayor said 
they had been there for a long time; there was 
no one to take them in; each man had as much 
as he could do to work his own farm. A sign of 
the times was the women carting. We saw cer- 
tainly three or four heavy carts drawn by two 
old horses, filled with bags of flour or potatoes, 
with women walking alongside with their long 
whips, just like the men. Le Mele is a pretty 
little town, the river Sarthe flowing through it. 
Just at the entrance there is a picturesque old 
house, now a mill, with courtyard and towers; 
it had been a chateau. Usually they did a most 
flourishing business, the mayor told me, but to-day 
it was almost deserted — a few old men and boys 
staggering along with heavy bags on their shoul- 
ders. It was market-day and the town was full, 
but evidently a great many strangers — "des 
Parisiens," one woman told us. Le Mele is on 
the highroad from Paris to Brest, and himdreds 
of people passed through at the time of the 
panic (when the Germans were near Paris), on 
their way to some quiet little place in Brittany. 
For two days, the patronne of our little hotel 
told us, two himdred autos a day filled with 
women, children, and baggage passed through the 
town. There are no soldiers, no wounded, there 
now. The only two doctors had gone to the 
front; no traces of war — a busy little country 
town. When I went into a shop to ask for a 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 97 

pattern of calegon militaire, the woman said to 
me, seeing my Red Cross badge, "Ah, Madame is 
come to open a hospital." All the women in the 
shop were making garments for the soldiers, some 
of them knitting stockings as they walked along 
the streets. There were several autos with nice- 
looking people in them standing about. The 
market was crowded — always the same nice-look- 
ing women, so active and alert, standing at their 
stalls, their arms akimbo, smiling and eager and so 
intelligent in understanding what one wanted. I 
always say Frenchwomen of all classes are the best 
business women in the world. There was just the 
same tempting array of eggs, cheeses, chickens, 
and butter as at Mamers, but we get all these 
from the farms. We wanted some meat, which 
we only get once a week from the butcher. The 
great feature was fat little pink pigs, really quite 
pretty — their long hair, carefully combed, like 
silk. The mayor told us they were much in de- 
mand, cost forty francs apiece. I shall become 
an expert in farms and woods. I always said I 
ought to have lived in the country and have 
managed a model farm. It was really more my 
vocation than the life I have led in courts and 
embassies, though that had its charm too. 

The poor mayor was rather worried when we 
got home. He found despatches advising him 
of the passage of a certain black automobile, 
filled with men dressed as women, flying at top- 



98 MY WAR DIARY 

speed over the country — spies certainly — ^who 
must be arrested. Such extraordinary rumours 
get about. He was going to communicate with 
the gendarmes, as he alone — ^he is a little man — 
could do nothing. Usually nothing passes — some 
children, a few carts and wagons, and a great 
many geese, who are as good as watch-dogs. It 
seems they hate strangers, fly at the children 
sometimes, and always cackle and flap their 
wings when any one passes. They are enormous 
in this country, as big as swans. It really is a 
lovely view I have out of my window when I open 
the shutters wide early in the morning and look 
straight across the narrow country road to a high 
green bank and hedge, behind it pear and apple 
trees loaded with fruit; just around the comer 
a little white house with a red roof, with a small 
garden in front, where a red-cheeked, white-haired 
old woman sits all day in the sim, and invites one 
in to pick some of her flowers. They make their 
cider here much more with pears than apples, 
and very good it is, though very strong; I add a 
great deal of water. 

Friday, September 25th. 
Still beautiful, bright days. We sit out all 
day; take ovlt meals (except dinner) in the gar- 
den. Yesterday I went with Marie to one of the 
famous farms near here. The fermiere came for 
us in her little trap — a clean, energetic little 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 99 

woman, dressed like all the peasants in a short 
black skirt, and wide, blue-and-white check 
apron, which hid her dress entirely, but no coiffe, 
her hair very neatly done. She has eight chil- 
dren — seven boys, three at the war, and one girl, 
and now they do all the farm work themselves, 
as they can't get any labourers. The court looked 
very clean and sunny, all the buildings in good 
order. We saw everything conscientiously. It 
was amusing when the boys drove in the brood- 
mares (which have just begun to work a little). 
They let out the colts, who all galloped madly to 
their mothers. The farm is very well known. 
They got the second prize for the best-kept farm, 
and would have had the first, if there hadn't 
been a bottle of cornichons in the dairy, which 
the judges said was not in its proper place. She 
gave us milk, cider, everything she had, and we 
carried home a pot of thick yellow cream. 

This afternoon's mail has brought us bad news 
from Mareuil. I was sure it would come, but it 
has distressed me very much. One of our friends, 
M. Pernolet, was en tournee in our part of the 
country and stopped at Mareuil to give us news. 
This is what he writes: *'The ist of September 
the English arrived and did a little harm, but they 
only passed through. Then came the Germans, 
who stayed eight days. They have entirely de- 
molished the inside of the house, stolen linen, 
dresses, all the batterie de cuisine, twenty-nine 



loo MY WAR DIARY 

lamps, the silver broken, and spoilt all the furni- 
ture. In the cabinet stolen medals, arms, ran- 
sacked and thrown about all the papers; all the 
bedding spoilt; one new automobile taken; an 
old one left; the outside is intact." 

I don*t think we could have prevented it. I 
could not leave Charlotte there alone with her 
boys to face these savages, and even if I could 
have left H., I don't think I could have prevented 
anything, a woman alone, but it is awful to think 
of our house ruined and so much of value taken. 
All my husband's papers were there, locked and 
padlocked in a case, but that, of course, was easily 
smashed. I must get back to Paris and then 
down to Mareuil. I have written to our woman 
down there who went away with all the rest when 
they were told to evacuer, and also to the cure, but 
I must get there. It would have been a miracle 
if we had escaped, as our place is directly on the 
highroad from Meaux to Rheims. We had also 
a letter from Comtesse Gyldenstolpe (nee Norah 
Plunkett), wife of the Swedish minister, from 
Bordeaux. She says: "I shall never forget our 
hurried departure from Paris that night, that end- 
less train, crowded with people of all nationalities, 
from a small Chinese baby up to the most impor- 
tant Ambassador, everybody divided up by coun- 
tries. I never knew we had so many colleagues 
before. As we travelled through the night we 
passed one train militaire after the other, crowds 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR loi 

both of soldiers and evident refugees all along the 
line, so many wounded too. I shall never forget 
it; everybody so anxious and preoccupied, and at 
the same time each one asking for his baggage 
and wondering how he could caser himself when 
one got there. The heat too ; there are no words 
to describe what it was; no words either to de- 
scribe the crowd, soldiers, political people, diplo- 
mats, stray foreigners, who really had nothing to 
do here, and anxious relatives, who wished to be 
at headquarters to obtain news. ..." 

I think the crowd has diminished a little now, 
but, of course, as long as the Government is at 
Bordeaux it will always be the great centre. We 
have been up to the church for the last time, and 
I went to say good-bye to M. le Cure. He re- 
ceived me in his salon this time — really quite a 
nice room, with a red-velvet sofa and armchairs, 
a bookcase, and a big window opening on a 
pretty garden. I told him if I had been more 
familiar with the chants of his church I would 
have offered to play for him. He said he hadn't 
dared ask me. He was much interested in all I 
told him about Mareuil and how our house had 
been saccage. It was a beautiful evening, soft, 
pink sunset clouds ; the yellow moon just rising 
over the trees; not a sound in the quiet little 
place until the evening angelus. I shall miss the 
bells; they seem to speak of peace and hope. 



lOZ MY WAR DIARY 

Paris, Monday, September 28th. 
We arrived this morning after a long night in 
the train, the carriage full. However, we had no 
adventures. We left Les Aulneaux looking quite 
charming in the stmshine about 3 o'clock yesterday 
afternoon. I had sent for a carriage from Ma- 
mers for H., as I was afraid she would appreciate 
neither the mayor's conveyance nor his conver- 
sation, but his trap followed with our luggage and 
the two women. The drive was charming; our 
old horse went quite fast enough. The harness 
was a little casual; the driver got down once or 
twice to arrange something, finally asked Marie 
if she had a pair of scissors and a piece of string. 
She produced both, and he mended whatever was 
wrong, and we got to Mamers without any ad- 
venture. The town was full of soldiers — ^many 
wounded, a group of Turcos sitting in the sun. 
Two of them looked badly, stretched out on cou- 
vertures; they couldn't speak — just smiled when 
we talked to them. These fierce fighters that 
caused such havoc with the Germans, and are 
such a wild, formidable enemy, had good simple 
faces, almost childlike. We stopped at the Hotel 
du Cygne on the Place de la Republique, and sat 
on the terrace till nearly 9 o'clock, much inter- 
ested in all that was going on. There was evi- 
dently a general or superior officer staying in the 
house, as orderlies were going and coming all the 
time with despatches. I asked a nice-looking old 



FIRST DAYS OF THE WAR 103 

colonel if there was any news. "Cela va bien, 
Madame; nous n'avons qu'attendre; nous atten- 
drons." ("All is going well; we have only to 
wait. We will wait.") The dinner was good, 
served by women ; was entirely military — one long 
room filled with sous-officiers, the other reserved 
for the officers and the few passing travellers. 
There was a great jingle of spurs and sabres when 
they all trooped in — and a very good-looking lot 
of officers they were — and then a flow of conver- 
sation; all were most cheerful. We had a little 
table at one end of the room, too far to hear any 
of the talk, which I was sorry for. Some of them 
were evidently just from the front, some very 
smart chasseurs with their light-blue tunics and 
red trousers, which showed distinct signs of wear. 
I caught every now and then the names of fa- 
miliar places in my part of the country : La Ferte- 
Milon — ^Villers-Cotterets. They might perhaps 
have given me news of Mareuil, but I didn't like 
to ask. Our carriage came a little before 8 to 
take us to the station, where there was again a 
great crowd — as many people apparently want- 
ing to get into Paris now as there were who 
wanted to get out three weeks ago. We took a 
little country train to Connerets and there got 
the rapide de Brest for Paris. Any illusion we 
had had of a carriage to ourselves — or even a 
comfortable seat — ^was quickly dispelled. The 
train stopped for a very short time ; we were hur- 



I04 MY WAR DIARY 

ried into the first-class carriage (there were only 
two on the train) and found one seat (we were 
four) for H. I began my night sitting on my 
valise in the couloir, but after a little while the 
people in the carriage where H. was made room 
for me, and I got through the night fairly com- 
fortably, though it is years since I have sat up 
straight all night in a crowded carriage. I was 
thankful when we arrived at 7.30 at the Gare 
Montpamasse, and I hope I won't have to take 
another railway journey while the country is 
under martial law. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER 
1914 



October 5th. 

I have been ill for two or three days. The 
visit* to Mareuil upset me entirely. However, I 
have got my nerve back. Things might have 
been worse, and after the war, if all ^oes well with 
us, it will be interesting to reconstruct our house 
and our lives. Nothing can ever be the same 
again. 

After breakfast, I walked down to the Embassy 
to thank the Ambassador for having given us an 
auto and an officer to go down to Mareuil. I 
found there the new Spanish Ambassador, Mar- 
quis de v., a fine soldierly-looking old man. He 
remains in Paris, having stopped a few days in 
Bordeaux to present his credentials. 

They were both much interested in all I told 
them of the state in which I found my house and 
the village; and they rather comforted me, say- 
ing that any troops would have taken blankets, 
coverlids, and saucepans out of an uninhabited 
house. I couldn't have refused them, naturally, 
to our own soldiers ; but they wouldn't have taken 
pictures and silver and souvenirs of all kinds. 

It is beautiful weather. I enjoy the walk over 
to the ouvroir; should enjoy it more if there were 

* This visit is described later; see page 130. 
107 



io8 MY WAR DIARY 

not occasional Tauben flying about. No one 
seems to mind them. Every one nms out into the 
middle of the street when they hear one coming, 
though people have been warned to stay indoors. 
One hears them from a long distance. 

Mrs. D. came in late to the ouvroir, rather 
afraid she may be evacuee a second time, as the 
Germans are unpleasantly near the ambulance. 
She carried off a large parcel of sheets and pillow- 
cases we had made for her. I went to dine with 
her at the H6tel Crillon. There was no one but 
ourselves in the dining-room, but the gerant told 
us there were several people in the house. 

They had an Englishman with them whose 
name I didn't catch, a tall man, dressed in khaki, 
with the Red Cross brassard on his arm. He had 
been to the front in his motor to look for his son, 
reported missing, whom he didn't find. He said 
people were very kind, trying to help him, but that 
it was impossible to get anywhere near the front: 
all sorts of vehicles, provision-wagons, munition, 
cannon, and autos — squads of cavalry crowding 
on the roads, which are getting very bad and cut 
up with so much passing; a few heavy motors 
struggling helplessly on the side of the road — and 
in the fields. 

I came away early as I didn't like driving about 
in the dark. The Champs Elysees are scarcely 
lighted. It is now a long, black avenue, the trees 
on each side making a high dark wall., 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 109 

Thursday, October 8th. 

I was at the ouvroir all the afternoon. We 
want now to make packages to send to the front. 
We have many more applicants for work than 
we can employ, and it is hard to send the women 
away. They look so utterly miserable; but we 
can't increase our expenses. I stopped at the 
Automobile Club who send off autos filled with 
warm clothes once or twice a week. All the 
packages were piled up in the coin-tyard, and each 
one was weighed, as they must not exceed a cer- 
tain number of pounds. There were all kinds: 
An old woman came in with such a small packet, 
wanting to send it to her son, and the soldier in 
charge, a smart-looking young reserviste, was so 
nice with her, looking to see if the name, company, 
and regiment were distinctly marked. I asked 
her what it was. ''Only a flannel band, Madame; 
I have nothing to send and he asks for nothing, 
but he always liked his flannel belt." They are 
very useful; we make dozens of them, some in 
flannel, some knit or crochet. 

I am going to ask the women in our street, the 
epiciere and the patronne of a little cafe at the 
corner where the Croix Rouge employes and 
Boy Scouts breakfast, if they won't knit me 
cache-nez and stockings, if I supply wool and 
needles. 

I dined out to-night — a rare occurrence in these 
tim.es — with Sir Henry to meet Lord and 



no MY WAR DIARY 

Lady R. C, He is over here with the British Red 
Cross Society. There was also an EngHsh banker 
who is banker for all the British officers. The 
talk was interesting. I really think the British 
hate the Germans more than we do. We spoke 
of old times, and Hatfield, of course, when all 
were yoimg men, unmarried and at home, and a 
very cheerful, united family party they were; 
and all so clever. Lord R. told me his brother 
Edward had lost his only son. The mother came 
over to see if she could find his body. He was 
reported missing after the battle of the Mame. 
She went down to Rheims, made all sorts of in- 
quiries — ^heard of many good-looking young Eng- 
lishmen killed — even had some of the graves 
opened (the clothes and belongings of each dead 
man are put in a bundle at his head), but could 
find no trace of her boy. She is one of a million 
mothers who will never hear anything more of 
their sons. 

The drive home is always disagreeable; so dark 
and the streets so deserted; I think our ^street is 
the darkest of all. It doesn't seem like Paris when 
one crosses the avenue du Trocadero, usually 
so light and so many carriages dashing about, 
and the trams a long line of light which are seen 
at a great distance. Now it is quite black. 
Suddenly a figure emerges out of the darkness, 
quite close to you. A little further on one just 
gets the glint of the bayonet of the sentry at the 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 m 

foot of the hill. I don't believe a creature has 
come back. There is no sign of life; no lights 
an3rwhere. As long as the Germans are still near 
Paris and the Tauben flying overhead, people 
won't come back. 

Saturday, loth October. 

It is beautiful summer weather and the days 
slip by. We were quite numerous at the ouvroir 
this afternoon. Madame de Singay, who is in- 
firmiere at the British Red Cross hospital installed 
at the H6tel Astoria, asked me for some ''Nightin- 
gales." I didn't know what they were, but the 
boys' English nurse told me: a loose, sleeveless 
jacket which the men like on their shoulders when 
they can sit up in bed to read or write. They 
were invented by the famous English nurse, 
Florence Nightingale, in the Crimea, and called 
after her. We sent at once for some flannel, and 
will have some made as quickly as possible, all 
the ladies working hard. 

At 7 o'clock C. came for me and we went to 
dine at La Rue's, one of the popular cafes in the 
rue Royale, to see the aspect of the boulevards at 
night. There were a good many people dining — 
a very good dinner. One long table filled with 
British officers, who attracted much attention 
from some of the pretty young women, dames 
seules, who were dining quietly in the corner — 
almost all with the badge or brassard of the Croix 



112 MY WAR DIARY 

Rouge. Women of all classes have formed that 
society, and some of the best nurses are young 
actresses and dancers from the Paris theatres. 

D. dined with us. He goes every day to the 
Jockey Club and hears their view of the way 
things are being done, and how now, after the 
first burst of patriotism, politics are beginning to 
play a part. 

I think the Government is doing very well; 
and if there are individual cases of treachery (it 
seems an awful word to use in connection with 
any French soldier or minister) it will have no 
effect on the public. 

War always brings out the best qualities of 
people of all classes — except the Germans, who 
have developed such barbarity and cruelty that 
we ask ourselves how they were ever considered 
a Christian, civilised power. They imposed upon 
all the world with their Familienleben and their 
sentimental music and poetry. 

A little after 9, the waiters began to bring the 
hats and coats of the diners, and gradually to 
put out the lights. At 9.30 two policemen ap- 
peared at the door, and in ten minutes the cafe 
was empty. 

We walked about a little, but the boulevards 
were depressing; very dark, and one needs as 
much outside light as possible in these sad days. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 113 

Wednesday, October 14th. 
The days are so alike that one hardly realises 
that the autumn is slipping away. The weather 
is beautiful still. I went up to the rue de la 
Pompe. Maggie is there, and we went to the 
hospital installed in the Lycee Janson, just op- 
posite our apartment, to see an English soldier, 
a nice-looking young fellow, not wounded, but 
almost dead with rheimiatism and pneumonia. 
He had been four days and nights on his gun 
(was an artilleryman), sometimes in a pouring 
rain. He said everybody was good to him at the 
hospital, some ladies even bringing him tea and 
buns every day. We promised him some warm 
clothes as he was to go back to the front in a day 
or two. He was dying to get on his gun again 
and have another shot at the Germans. Told us 
horrors he had seen; but said the Germans were 
drunk (he was near Rheims) ; their officers had no 
control of them. 

Friday, October i6th. 
Maggie came in after lunch with the gunner 
who was to leave for the front the next day. He 
looked better but delicate still ; was dressed in 
the clothes we gave him, and had had a good 
"English" lunch at one of the restaurants. The 
Medecin-Chef had allowed Maggie to take him 
out until 5 o'clock. The Mygatts were here, and 
we were all much interested in all he told us. He 



114 MY WAR DIARY 

never had his clothes off from the 20th August 
until the 15th September. His boots had to be 
cut off, they were so hard and stiff. When they 
wanted to give him another pair at the hospital, 
he refused absolutely; said he would never put 
on boots again — ^went for days in felt slippers. 

Saturday, October 17th. 

Our beautiful sun has gone in. To-day it is 
grey and damp. Mrs. Mygatt and I went to see 
the mayor of our arrondissement to speak about 
some poor women who wanted work. He was 
not there, but we saw a lady, very important, 
who was in charge of the ouvrieres sans travail. 
She recommended two women, soldiers' wives, 
one a culottiere (woman who makes trousers), 
and the other a piqueuse de machine a coudre. 
They would be very pleased to come every after- 
noon from 2 to 6 for fr. 1.50. Poor things, it is 
nothing for clever Paris workwomen. One gained 
10 francs a day, with two meals, at ,one of the 
good tailors ; the other about the same. We don't 
say we will give any meals, but we will give tea 
and thick slices of bread and butter, and later 
a bowl of soup. 

Mme. del Marmol, our Belgian friend, came in 
quite happy, poor thing, as she had had news of 
her children in the country in Belgium, for the 
first time since the siege of Liege. She is just 
starting an ouvroir for the Belgian women; says 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 115 

their misery is appalling; some of the children 
have no shirts or underclothes of any description, 
only a dress or a coat over their skin. One woman 
came to the ouvroir with her baby, a month old. 
They put it in a basket near the fire, and the little 
thing was quite happy and slept peacefully, all 
the other women crowding aroimd it. She says 
they don't complain; seem half stunned by the 
awful catastrophe that has fallen upon them. 

Poor, pretty, smiling little Belgium, with gar- 
dens and farms and thriving, busy, happy popu- 
lation ! It is sickening to think of black burned 
plains, and whole villages smoking ruins ! 

Mme. de Singay came in about 6 o'clock to beg 
for garments for a military hospital at Villers- 
Cotterets, where they were in need of everything. 
Some one down there asked her if she knew me; 
said Mr. Waddington had represented so long that 
part of the country that they were sure I would 
help them. She carried off a fine bundle of flannel 
sheets, warm calegons, red flannel ceintures, and 
rolls of bandages of all sizes. 

I found M. sitting with H. when I came home. 
Her husband is an infirmier at the American Am- 
bulance, works there every day from 8 in the 
morning until 7 at night. She says he is tired 
out, stoops like an old man; has his dinner as 
soon as he comes in, and goes at once to bed. 
She had just seen her eldest boy (22), who is in 
a French cuirassier regiment. He is a Russian 



Ii6 MY WAR DIARY 

subject, was in Canada when the war broke out, 
and couldn't get back in time to enlist in a Rus- 
sian regiment, so joined the French army, as did 
the son of Istolsky, Russian Ambassador in France, 
who was also too late to get to Russia. 

Sunday, October i8th. 

There was an innovation in the American church 
this morning — almost all the boys and young men 
of the choir have been called away either as sol- 
diers or scouts, and they are replaced by girls 
dressed in black with white surplices, and little 
white caps on their heads, only a few older men 
remaining. 

We had a few visits in the afternoon. Mrs. 
Watson, the rector's wife, came late. She was most 
interesting, telling curious stories of Americans of 
all classes stranded here at the beginning of the 
war. The Ambassador and Mrs. Herrick, Sir 
H. L., and Pauline de B. dined. Lt. G., the 
young officer who took me down to Mareuil, came 
in after dinner. Lt. G. had just come back from 
the front, where he had picked up wounded and 
brought them back to the hospital. He said 
shells were flying about in a pretty lively manner. 

The Harjes have done a most generous thing: 
fitted out and equipped entirely — ^nurses, doctors, 
and ambulance — a field-hospital in a chateau 
close to the firing-line. Everything is arranged 
so that the whole hospital can move on to an- 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 117 

other place in two hours, if there came a serious 
attack. 

I thought the Ambassador looked tired; he 
does so much and sees so many people — ^not only 
his own colony, but many of his colleagues, who 
go to him for advice. 

He is reading the life of Washburne, who was 
United States Minister here in 18 70, 'and remained 
in Paris all through the siege and the Commune. 
He said it was most interesting to read it just 
now, when he was doing the same thing, but under 
such different circumstances. 

Tuesday, October 20th. 

A. H. came to breakfast this morning, and we 
went after breakfast to see Mrs. W. at the rectory. 
She had promised to show us her ouvroir. I had 
never been inside of the house. It is pretty and 
original, very comfortable for two people. No 
clergyman with a family could get into it. She 
showed us some of the up-stairs rooms over the 
church, which had been most useful at the time 
of the American invasion, as they had put beds 
and mattresses everyivhere, in the library, in the 
corridor, and even in the cloisters. The weather 
was so warm and beautiful all those first days of 
the war. 

The ouvroir was very well arranged, a large 
light room — cupboards all around the walls; 
about twenty women, all French, working at a 



Ii8 MY WAR DIARY 

long table, some by hand, some with sewing-ma- 
chines. There were two women in charge — a sur- 
veillante who gave out and examined the work, 
and another who had the caisse, received any 
money that came, and paid the women. It was 
most orderly. In some of the cupboards were all 
sorts of clothes, both men's and women's, sent 
in trunks to Mrs. W. by people who were go- 
ing back to America and were willing to leave 
their contents for less fortunate compatriots who 
couldn't get away with the first rush, and who had 
no clothes except what they had on their backs. 

Most of the useful things had been given away, 
but there were still some evening cloaks, one or 
two pretty dresses with fichus and sashes, fancy 
shoes and blouses, and petticoats with lace and 
embroidery. Mrs. W. told me that one woman 
carried off a pair of white satin slippers. She 
rather protested, thought it foolish, but the woman 
persisted. She rettimed three or four days after- 
ward with a pair of nice black shoes on. She 
had covered the white satin slippers with some 
black stuff, and had a very neat pair of shoes. 

We carried off some patterns, a plastron, and 
some loose stockings to go over swollen or band- 
aged feet. Nothing is lost in the ouvroir. They 
use the selvage as it is cut off the flannel. It 
makes strong twine to tie up packages. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 119 

Wednesday, October 21st. 

There is very little war news. I wonder if it 
is right to keep the public in such ignorance. 
The Germans have not succeeded in getting either 
Calais or Dunkirk, but we haven^t dislodged them 
from their trenches near Soissons, and as long as 
they are in France one can't breathe freely. 

I went with the M.'s this afternoon to visit a 
hospital of the Petites Soeurs des Pauvres in the 
rue Lafayette, near the Gare du Nord. We passed 
a house which had been destroyed by bombs 
dropped from a German Taube. Roof, windows, 
fagade gone, a crowd in front of it. The hospital 
looked very peaceful and well ordered in a convent 
on one side of a big courtyard. The church at 
the bottom. The Superieure, a good, kind, help- 
ful woman, took us into the wards. They only 
have twenty beds — as they have very little room 
and no surgical cases, for they have no surgeons or 
doctors in permanent attendance. They are very 
poor; depend entirely upon what people will give 
them. When the first wounded came they had 
nothing — gave up their own beds, and made first 
bandages out of their own chemises. 

We saw one young officer with his right arm am- 
putated — twenty-eight years old — ^with a wife and 
child, another one on the way. He had been 
moved there as soon as possible after his operation. 
I stopped to talk to him a little when the party 
moved on. I am very shy about talking to the 



I20 MY WAR DIARY 

men. I think they must hate a party of sight- 
seers, who come to inspect the hospital and say 
a few banal words to each man. He looked so 
sad, I said to him: *'It is melancholy to see you 
like this at your age." ''I don't complain, Ma- 
dame, it might be worse. I am glad to have been 
able to serve my country; but I am a cripple for 
life." The Mere Superieure told me his wife 
didn't know yet that his arm had been cut off. 
They were going to tell her the next morning. I 
said: ** Don't tell her yet, poor thing, in the state 
she is in; wait until her baby is bom." But the 
good mm answered, putting her hand on my 
arm: ''Oh, yes, Madame, she must be told; she 
must bear her cross like so many women in France 
to-day. She must be thankful to have him back 
even a cripple; many women will never see their 
husbands again." 

I was hatmted all night by the poor fellow's 
eyes, so big in his white, drawn face. 

Saturday, October 24th. 
Our work is going on well. The mayor sends 
us women every day, but we can't employ all, 
and it is hard to send them away. Some of the 
women who asked at first to work at home have 
now asked to come to the workroom, where they 
have fire, lights, and company. Usually nine or 
ten French girls working together chatter all the 
time; but now one scarcely hears a word except 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 121 

something to do with the work. They all look 
sad, and what is worse, they all look hungry. I 
suppose a good bowl of cafe au lait and a slice of 
bread helps a little, but it isn't a meal for work- 
ing, growing girls. 

We have had no Taube for several days, but 
French aeroplanes are always hovering over Paris 
— ^which of course the Germans know, as they 
know everything. They are bombarding Lille 
and Arras. Soon northern and eastern France 
will be as completely devastated as Belgium. 

Sunday, October 25th. 
I didn't go out at all to-day, though the sun 
was shining brightly. We had visitors all the 
afternoon, and Mrs. B. and Lord W. dined with 
us. Lord W. had brought our despatches and 
had been to the front; said everybody seemed 
quite satisfied, but all the same the fighting in 
the north is terrible, and the wounds ghastly. 
Some of the German prisoners tell stories of hunger 
and of being forced to fight, and show no enthu- 
siasm for the war or the Kaiser. But the officers 
as a rule are reserved and arrogant. There is 
always a note of gaiety even in these tragic days, 
when one talks of the Kaiser and his intimate re- 
lations with God. An Englishman who happened 
to be at Potsdam on Good Friday, was surprised 
to see the Imperial flag on the Palace at half- 
mast — ^hadn't seen in the papers that any member 



122 MY WAR DIARY 

of the Royal Family was dead. He asked the 
driver (of the fiacre he was in) what it meant; 
who was dead? The man grinned, and pointing 
to the flag, remarked: *'Familientrauer" (family 
mourning). 

Monday, October 26th. 

The weather is beautiful, and there are a few 
more people about in the daytime, but the streets 
are melancholy at night, quite dark and deserted. 
When we come back late — 7 o'clock — ^from the 
ouvroir, we generally come en bande, walking; 
but if it rains, we take a taxi between us, which 
takes each one home. Everybody walks; no one 
has a carriage. There are only Red Cross and 
military autos. 

Mme. Marchand came to tea with us, and we 
promised to send her a packet for the front where 
her husband has a command. He has many 
Turcos in his brigade, and says they are shiver- 
ing. Poor fellows ! how will they ever stand the 
real cold weather when the winter begins? 

Very nice-looking women came to ask for wood 
this afternoon, one with such good manners, 
looking and speaking like a lady, implored us to 
not send her away. We gave her some work. 
She told the caissiere she hadn't 50 centimes in 
her purse. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 123 

Thursday, October 29th. 

B. and M. came in this morning. They are 
installing an ambulance in their chateau, which 
means putting in chauifage central — extra bath- 
rooms and various other changes so that for the 
moment the house is not habitable — as B. says 
there are holes in the walls everywhere — they are 
in Paris for a few days. 

She read me a charming letter from J. (my 
godson) who is corporal in a regiment of cuiras- 
siers somewhere in Belgiimi. She didn't know 
where, as the soldiers are not allowed to put any 
address on their letters, but **at the front.'* 
When he wrote, he was acting as interpreter for 
the British. He says they are wonderfully 
equipped, have plenty of warm clothes and excel- 
lent food. He had tea with them sometimes in 
the trenches, and they gave him some jam. 
Half of his regiment is now a pied in the trenches, 
as they have no more horses. There is nothing 
for the cavalry to do now. Their turn will come 
when the Germans retreat, and we drive them 
out of France. Those who are dressed for it 
manage pretty well, but he is still in his cuiras- 
sier's uniform, high boots, spurs, cloak and casque, 
and doesn't find that very convenient for crouch- 
ing in the trenches. As he is very tall — over six 
feet — the trenches are not, much of a shelter for 
him. 

He says, as they all do, that the British fight 



124 MY WAR DIARY 

like lions; but they are most independent; can't 
stay in the trenches. When they hear the noise 
of any explosion, they start up and get killed at 
once. 

I went to the Embassy for a few minutes after 
breakfast; found people there, of course. They 
keep open house always; have people lunching 
and dining. Dr. H. was there, who was American 
Ambassador in Berlin some years ago. I asked 
him if he wasn't surprised at the brutality of the 
Germans. He said he couldn't understand them, 
above all the Kaiser. He had often talked to 
him about all sorts of things ; found him intelligent, 
well-informed, with a strong sense of his position 
and responsibilities. He had raised his country 
to such a height of prosperity ; everything — army, 
navy, commerce, colonies, so firmly established — 
that it seemed incredible he should have sacri- 
ficed it all for his own insane ambition. 

Mrs. Herrick had a charming letter from Queen 
Mary, thanking her for all she had done for 
British people. It was a pretty, womanly letter. 
Both she and the Ambassador will have many 
more before the war ends. Their staying here 
through all the darkest days will never be for- 
gotten. The big gates and doors of the Embassy 
were always wide open, and there was a continu- 
ous stream of people pouring in, asking for advice 
and help. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 125 

Saturday, October 31st. 

Always the same meagre war news, but one 
feels that things are going well with us. I have 
again letters from the cure of Mareuil and Mme. 
Gaillard, my concierge, begging me to come down. 
Mme. G. says she has soldiers quartered always 
at the house, and that they are very exacting, 
must have fires of course (''Madame sait comme 
le bois est cher"), and would like blankets — ^but 
as the Germans took all mine, I can't give them 
any. I must take some down when I go. This 
is the list of the necessary things I must bring 
down, Mme. G. says: Coal, petroleum, lamps, 
candles, table-cloths, napkins, towels, blankets, 
china, knives, forks, spoons, sugar and salt, 
pillows — ^batterie de cuisine. She hasn't got a 
kettle or a saucepan in the kitchen. Also, will I 
bring down some warm clothes for the women 
and children? People have been very kind in 
sending me clothes. Mrs. Watson sent me a 
good package from her ouvroir, and I will take 
some men's shirts from mine. 

They also write from La Ferte-Milon for hos- 
pital shirts, warm clothes, and bandages. The 
sisters have wounded men at the Hotel- Dieu, and 
very few resources. La Ferte was occupied by the 
Germans, and the town had to pay a heavy in- 
demnity to prevent them from bombarding and 
destroying their beautiful churches. 



126 MY WAR DIARY 

Monday, November 2nd 
(Jour des Morts). 

We have had two beautiftil days, and I have 
been so homesick for Mareuil. The Toussaint is 
such an important day in our Httle village. Early 
in the morning the children come to get flowers 
to decorate the church and the tombs. I seemed 
to hear the clatter of sabots and the shrill voices 
of the children as they trooped into the court- 
yard, and to smell the chrysanthemums which 
they carried off in quantities. Then came the 
sacristain with two choir-boys, carrying with much 
pomp the pain benit we always gave on that day 
• — an erection of brioches, going up in a pyramid, 
with a wreath of flowers at the base. The church 
was always full the next day (Les Morts). I never 
went. The black draperies and funeral service, and 
the names of all who died in the year read out, 
made such an impression upon me the only time 
I went, that it left a haunting memory that lasted 
for weeks every time I went to the chttrch. But 
I always went to the cemetery, after the service, 
and stood with the village people who were pray- 
ing for their dead. It never seems quite the 
same day in the city. 

Wednesday, November 4th. 
We are going to Mareuil to-morrow. Maggie 
will go down with me. We were busy making our 
packets all the morning, and went in the after- 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 127 

noon to get my satif -conduit. They always make 
a difficulty about it. My pieces d'identite are 
not sufficient. They want my certificat de ma- 
nage, which is at Mareuil — and are most unwilling 
to give any sauf-conduit for a village in the war 
zone. I wanted to get a permanent pass from 
the Governor of Paris, but he won't give me that, 
as I am not connected with a hospital or am- 
bulance at the front. 

Marethl, Thursday, November 5th, 1914. 

I am writing in my own room, in one comer of 
our house which has been disinfected and thor- 
oughly cleaned. The servants have made it as 
comfortable as they could with the chairs and 
tables the Boches have left me. I have an excel- 
lent lamp which I brought down with me, and a 
bright, crackling wood-fire, with pieces of wood 
about as big as matches which come from the 
saw-mill opposite. The little girl brings them in 
her apron. It is the first time I have fully real- 
ised what the German occupation meant, and how 
much can be taken out of a house, and how much 
dirt left in in eight days. 

Mareuil is a peaceful, sleepy little village of 
about five htmdred inhabitants, in the heart of 
the great farming country of France. It is directly 
on the highroad between Meaux and Soissons, 
about twenty miles from each. It is surrounded by 
big farms and woods. The fields stretch away to 



128 MY WAR DIARY 

the horizon, on one side; on the other to the 
great forest of Villers-Cotterets. There are no 
local industries, no factories ; the men work in the 
fields and woods. The women do nothing but 
look after their houses and children. 

Of course all the men, except the old ones, left 
m the first days of the mobilisation. My daugh- 
ter-in-law with her two boys, aged eight and nine, 
had remained in the house. 

The farmer next door and the miller promised 
to look after the women of the family, and the 
month passed quietly enough. Toward the end, 
there were rumours of the Germans having broken 
through the *'wall of steel," and small parties of 
Uhlans were said to be hovering about Rheims 
and Laon, also armed autos were reported dashing 
through the villages, firing at every one they met. 

Suddenly on Saturday night, the 29th of August, 
Charlotte was told she must leave the next day 
as early as possible. The village was to be 
evacue by ordre militaire — every one to leave, 
mayor, Conseil Municipal, cure, women. They 
spent Saturday night hiding all the valuables they 
could — papers, medals, etc., and left at 7 o'clock 
Sunday morning, with the greatest difficulty. 
The train was crowded with refugees and wounded 
soldiers. They could not have got seats even in 
one of the fourgons (baggage-wagons) if our chef 
de gare had not insisted. 

They had an awful journey, taking fourteen 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 129 

hours to travel a distance which usually takes two. 
They were shunted at almost all the stations, to 
make way for military trains going to the front, 
filled with soldiers cheering and singing. The pas- 
sengers got out, and the wotmded were attended 
to, sometimes on the roadside, sometimes at the 
stations. At Meaux there was an ambulance of 
the Croix Rouge, the nurses dressing the wounds, 
giving food to the soldiers and refugees, children 
frightened and crying. 

The whole party were exhausted when they 
got to Paris, but a night^s sleep restored them, 
and they started the next morning for Tours by 
automobiles. 

I was glad to see them out of Paris, which was 
no place for children with the great heat, and 
Tauben going about. I wanted to come straight 
down here. I had a feeling of shirking responsibil- 
ity, and leaving the village to its fate, which was 
very disagreeable to me; but all my friends pro- 
tested vigorously ; besides, I could not get a pass 
to go directly into the fighting zone. I was very 
uncomfortable, but there was nothing to be done. 
I heard nothing for weeks, but gathered from the 
communiques, and the few people one saw who 
knew anything, that fierce fighting was going on 
in that part of the country — chateaux, houses, 
and villages sacked and burnt. It wasn't pos- 
sible we should escape with our house standing 
so invitingly on the highroad. 



I30 MY WAR DIARY 

About the end of September, we heard through 
a friend who had been there, that our house was 
completely sacked, the four walls standing, but 
ever3rthing taken out of it. 

We had gone to the country, to a quiet little 
village in the Sarthe for three weeks, but as soon 
as I got back to Paris I determined to come down 
here. It wasn't easy — ^impossible by rail, as the 
bridges were blown up and no private conveyances 
were allowed on the road. I applied to Ambas- 
sador Herrick, who, as usual, did all he could to 
help me, and gave me one of his automobiles with 
a young American officer as escort, Lt. G. I 
asked the Tiffanys to come too, as they had 
stayed so recently at Mareuil, and Olive and 
Charlotte had moved all the furniture and pic- 
tures and rearranged the rooms. We started 
about 9.30, couldn't get a sauf-conduit all the 
way to Mareuil, only to the next village, but Lt. 
G. said he would certainly bring us here, ^nd he 
did. The journey from Paris to Meaux was 
almost normal, except for the absolute lack of 
traffic or movement of any kind. There were 
the same long stretches of straight white roads, 
bordered with rows of poplars which always 
mark the highroads in France. Nothing passing 
but military autos, long trains of munition and 
provision wagons, and ambulances with wounded 
soldiers. The villages were empty, a few very 
old men, women, and children standing in the 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 131 

doorways or at the well, the resort of all the 
women in the country when they want to gossip 
a little. No one in the fields, no sign of life, and 
above all, no sounds of life. No loud talking, nor 
singing, nor whistling. 

Meaux looked just the same, the beautiful old 
cathedral untouched, and the old mills on the 
river intact. I was afraid they had gone. They 
are so picturesque, built on a bridge. Every one 
goes to see them; they are quite a feature of 
Meaux. The other bridges were destroyed. 

About half-way between Meaux and Mareuil 
we began to see signs of fighting; all the big trees 
down, their branches blown off, lying on the road 
— ^roofless houses, holes and gaps in stone walls, 
fields cut up and trampled over, barricades across 
the roads, trenches and mounds in the fields, a 
few dead horses. Soldiers ever3rwhere, the whole 
road guarded. 

We were stopped once or twice, but the officer's 
pass and the Embassy carriage were all-powerful, 
and we came straight to our gates. From the 
outside one saw nothing changed. The four 
walls were intact, the iron gates standing, but 
inside . . . 

We had not been able to send word to the con- 
cierge, neither telegraph nor telephone worked 
(don't yet for civilians), and the post was most 
irregular. She heard the auto and came to the 
gates, not knowing who it was. The poor woman 



132 MY WAR DIARY 

looked twenty years older. She and her son, a 
boy of eighteen, had gone away with all the village. 
Sometimes a farmer's wife would give her a lift, 
but mostly she walked, for miles, weary and foot- 
sore, sleeping in the fields, imder the hedges, occa- 
sionally in a bam; no clothes but what they had 
on their backs, and hardly anything to eat, fright- 
ened to death, seeing a Uhlan in every creature 
that passed, and tormenting herself as to what 
was going on at home. She was so agitated at 
first that I could do nothing with her — assuring 
me that she had not deserted the place, that she 
only left when all the village did. I comforted 
her as well as I could. After all I had not come 
down myself to set the example, and could not 
expect others to do what I didn't do. 

We began our toiunee d'inspection at once. 
In the garage Jean Sallandrouze's auto had been 
taken, our's left, but smashed. It seemed they 
could not make it go at once, so they broke it. 
They had also left a light trotting wagon. 

The inside of the house was a desolation. It 
had been cleaned — ^four women working hard. 
Mme. G. said the dirt and smells were something 
awful. The bedding was in a filthy state. For 
twenty -four hours after they had begun to clean, 
they couldn't eat anything. **Si Madame avait 
vu la salete, jamais plus Madame n'aurait mis 
pied a la maison !" . 

Perhaps it is just as well that Madame didn't 
see all, as the actual state was bad enough. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 133 

She had sent me by a messenger a first state- 
ment of what was missing. Everything in the 
kitchen (except the range, which they couldn't 
move), twenty-nine lamps, china, silver, forks, 
spoons, and a tea-pot that were forgotten in the 
hurry of moving, glass, sheets, and blankets, cover- 
lids, pillows, rugs, pictures, old English engrav- 
ings, family miniatures, linen — all my son*s and 
daughter's clothes; and what they did not take 
they spoilt. A satin dress and lace dress of C.'s 
on the floor with great cuts in them, 

They evidently were of a practical turn of mind 
— ^took all the useful, solid things, cloth dresses, 
cloaks, two excellent Burberry waterproofs, canes. 
They took the billiard-balls, broke most of the 
cues, but did not break the table — ^neither the 
piano, an Erard grand. I rather expected to 
see it standing out in the fields, as some of my 
friends foimd theirs. 

In the drawing-room chairs and tables were 
broken, drawers pulled out, their contents scat- 
tered over the floor, quantities of papers and 
letters torn. I hadn't time that day to verify — 
put them all in a box up-stairs. 

Mme. G. had left two rooms, C.'s boudoir and 
Francis' dressing-room just as she found them 
when she came back after her ten days' wandering. 
The floors were covered up to our ankles with 
papers and books. In some of the books pages 
were torn out in the middle — such useless, wanton 
destruction. 



134 MY WA^ DIARY 

I had no time to look into everything, but of 
course I went all over the house. Some of the 
hiding-places had not been discovered. We found 
the silver and some old china just where C. had 
hidden it. It seems the officers slept in the 
house, the men on straw in the garage. The 
names Schneider, Reisnach, etc., were written on 
the doors of the bedrooms, and on the shutters 
of the drawing-room, in German writing, *'Ge- 
schaf tszimmer " — ^with the names and number of 
the regiment. In another part, *'zwanzig Man- 
ner." I told Mme. G. to leave the writing so 
that when Francis comes back — ^if he comes back 
— ^he can see in what state the Germans left his 
house. 

After we had been through the house, Mme. 
G. weeping alongside of me, and telling me all 
she had gone through, we went into the garden, 
which was too awful. They had kept their horses 
there. Lawns and flower-beds all trampled over 
and destroyed, a few climbing roses left on the 
walls. 

It was a beautiful day, a clear blue sky, yet all 
the time we heard the rumbling of thtmder. I 
said to the yoting officer: **How extraordinary to 
hear thimder with that cloudless summer sky!" 
** Don't you know what it is, Madame? — cannon 
— about twenty miles away." 

I had visits from the cure, the mayor, and one 
of the conseillers mtmicipaux — all full of their 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 135 

exodus and the weary days and nights of tramp- 
ing along the road. 

No other house in the village seems to have 
been treated like mine — except the poor peasants*, 
where they stole and broke everything. When a 
French peasant marries his first investment is a 
large wooden bedstead and armoire, which is the 
pride of his heart. These the Boches couldn*t 
carry away, but they broke them up for firewood, 
and carried off every poor little pot and pan they 
possessed. 

The women are sleeping on straw. I made a 
turn in the village, went into the two shops. 
Nothing left — empty shelves, the floors still cov- 
ered with the remnants of broken pots of cereals, 
pates, dried fruit, grains of all kinds, the en- 
tire stock of a country shop. The women were 
standing about helplessly, not knowing what 
to do. 

I saw a pile of berets and jerseys in one corner ; 
was surprised they had left anything so useful; 
when I touched them they all fell apart, had been 
cut and slashed in every direction — again such 
useless destruction. 

No harm was done to the church, a fine old 
twelfth-century specimen, and no houses burned 
nor shelled. The outside intact everywhere, but 
everything gone inside. 

The mayor was very blue, and I don't know 
how we shall get through the winter with all these 



136 MY WAR DIARY 

women and children, with no work nor money, 
and no clothes. 

We started back about 5 o'clock, so as not to 
be too late on the road, and the impression was 
melancholy; such intense stillness, as if the war- 
cloud was hanging low over us. We met three 
or four farm-wagons between Mareuil and Meaux, 
with women and children, and odd bits of furni- 
ture — poor people going back sadly to their homes. 

It was tragic to see some of the villages we 
passed through — Vareddes, May, etc. — the black, 
roofless cottages told their own tale, as well as 
the moimds in the fields where many soldiers are 
btuied. Little is left of the peaceful, happy little 
hamlets we know so well; no more women stand- 
ing smiling at the doors of their cottages, nor men 
ploughing the fields with their fine teams of big 
white oxen — ^utter desolation everywhere ! 

I promised to come down again as soon as pos- 
sible, but I could not manage it until to-day. I 
could not come alone; was obliged to wait imtil 
I could find some one willing to go into the "war 
zone,*' and was not sure if the railway would 
accept the quantity of luggage I would have. 
Everything had to be brought from Paris. I 
couldn't come by our usual line, the Est, as the 
bridges are not yet mended, and the journey was 
much longer by the Nord. I went to the Gare 
du Nord, and had some difficulty in getting the 
necessary information. I found a capable, in- 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 137 

telligent woman, however (there are, of course, 
numbers of women employed at all the gares, as 
the men have all gone). She was much inter- 
ested in my journey down to a village which had 
been devastated by the Germans, and we found 
that I could take as much luggage as I wanted, if 
I could get a sauf -conduit, which she seemed to 
think doubtful. 

I did have some trouble with the Commissaire 
de Police, who didn't at all want to give me a 
sauf-conduit, and was not satisfied with my pieces 
d'identite. I hadn't got my certiiicat de mariage, 
which is at Mareuil. When he finally made up 
his mind that I was Mme. Waddington, he still 
hesitated to give me the sauf-conduit. **Mais, 
Madame, pourquoi aller a Mareuil; it is abso- 
lutely in the zone militaire; it is no place for 
women — it is not really reasonable to go there." 
And when I insisted again on going: "But why 
do you want to go just now?" *' Because, Mon- 
sieur, I live there ; my house has been completely 
sacked, so has the entire village. I must go down 
and take clothes and provisions to the poor 
people." 

That mollified him a little, and he made out 
the paper grumbling to himself all the time, say- 
ing when he finally handed it to me: *'I really 
ought not to give it to you. It is no time for 
women to travel about in that part of the country 
— and at your age,'* 



138 MY WAR DIARY 

We started this morning. Maggie, the boys' 
English nurse, who is now nursing at the Ameri- 
can Ambulance, and an Englishman, one of our 
htimble friends, out of place for the moment, and 
very glad to do any odd job. He speaks French 
well, having lived many years in Paris. We had 
two cabs — Barling in one, with piles of bimdles 
and cases aroimd him, as we had to take down 
everjrthing — among others, a large case of Quaker 
oats, which Dr. Watson sent me, a basket of china, 
another of groceries, two big bundles of blankets 
and linen; a trunk of clothes which friends had 
sent me, also one from my ouvroir. Maggie and 
I in another with a bundle of clothes Mrs. Watson 
had sent me from her ouvroir, cartons with lamps 
and shades, a basket of vegetables, another of 
saucepans and kitchen things, a valise of knives 
and forks and spoons, and a hold-all full of things 
sent at the last moment — bandages, woollen 
socks, etc. 

There was a great crowd at the station. The 
Belgian refugees are still there in one of the cov- 
ered courts, where couchettes, a sort of bed made 
of planks, and covered with rugs and blankets, 
had been arranged, and big marmites to cook 
their food. People flock to see them, bringing 
them clothes and food. 

There was a great deal of confusion as there 
was not half the usual nimiber of porters — sol- 
diers everywhere. Every one made way for 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 139 

Nanna in her nurse's dress, and the porters were 
much interested in the ladies who were taking 
down food and clothes to one of the ruined vil- 
lages. 

It has been a beautiful day, clear and warm, and 
the route through the Villers-Cotterets forest was 
lovely. We went very slowly, stopping at every 
station, a long crowded train. We had a long 
wait, two hours at Ormoy, in the heart of the for- 
est. From there to Mareuil there were traces 
of war everywhere — almost all the little forest 
stations completely wrecked, roofs off, no doors 
nor windows, nothing but the four walls half 
tumbling down. 

They are repairing now as much as they can, 
but it is difficult to get workmen; the soldiers 
give a helping hand when they can. I should 
have thought some of the Belgians would have 
been glad of the work, but there are few able- 
bodied men among the refugees; they are all old, 
old men. 

Mareuil is occupe militairement — soldiers at the 
gare, and a poste on the highroad, just at the 
entrance of the village. They stopped me and 
wanted to know where I was going, and who I 
was, but the brigadier de gendarmerie, who was 
lodged at our house, and had seen me at the sta- 
tion, hiurried up and explained. . 

Mme. G. had not received my letter, and was 
much flustered at the arrival of three people. 



I40 MY WAR DIARY 

However, it was quite early in the afternoon — 
2.30. She had plenty of time to make fires (it 
was not at all cold — a bright, beautiful sun), and 
beds, and prepare our dinner. 

I walked about the garden while they were un- 
packing. The lawns are entirely cut up; horses 
were tethered there. The flower-beds quite 
spoilt; but there was one bed of chrysanthe- 
mums left — some of the big yellow ones, which 
gave quite a touch of colour and life to the wasted 
garden. 

The dining-room and fumoir were fairly com- 
fortable though very bare; still there were chairs 
and tables. I dined alone and am finishing my 
evening in my own room. The stillness and 
darkness are oppressive. There is not a light in 
the village or station — ^no trains passing — not a 
sound on the road. I am haunted by the thought 
of those brutes in oiu* house. 

Friday, November 6th. 
It has been a beautiful bright, mild day — ex- 
traordinarily clear, hardly any mist on the hills 
and woods. One sees a great distance. I have 
had a procession of visitors — ^first the cure with a 
list of the most miserable people, and all day the 
women and children. It is a pitiable sight. They 
have no clothes but what they stand in, as they 
went away at very short notice, and could only 
take a very few things tied up in bimdles (which 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 141 

some threw away en route, as they could not 
carry them). 

There is nothing left of their cottages but the 
four walls. The village houses are all stone, not 
easy to bum. But the Germans took all they 
could carry off, and destroyed what they couldn't 
take — ^broke furniture, chairs, tables, all the beds. 
The women sleep on straw and club together to 
make their soup in a marmite, like the soldiers. 
They have no clothes. When the woman washes 
her chemise, she lies in bed (on the straw) until it 
dries. One of them said to me : ' 'Would Madame 
please give her a casserole" (saucepan) ? ''Vous 
^tes bonne, ma fille. Les Allemands m'ont pris 
tous les miens; je suis arrivee avec deux ou trois 
dans ma poche potu* faire ma cuisine ici !'* 

Some of the boys — strong, handsome boys of ten 
and twelve — ^had nothing on but the linen jacket 
they went away in (it was warm, beautiful summer 
weather when they left) and no shirt nor tricot, the 
jacket over their bare skin. Thanks to my friends 
and my ouvroir, I can supply the first necessities, 
but to clothe a whole village requires time and 
money. 

All the afternoon we spent going over the house 
and seeing what was left. They seem to have 
made a clean sweep of all the small things that 
accumulate in a house — pens, pencils, scissors, 
frames, pincushions, fancy boxes and bags. Some 
of the trunks in the garret are untouched. They 



142 MY WAR DIARY 

were locked, but of course could easily have been 
forced open. All the silver things that had not 
been hidden have gone, inkstands, frames, vases. 

The concierge has lost everything, even her 
wedding-wreath carefully preserved under a glass. 

I went into the billiard-room and salon, opening 
the windows wide to let in the last rays of the 
sun. In the salon drawers pulled out and broken 
— ^books taken — ^great gaps in the rows — music 
torn and scattered over the floor, but the piano 
not hurt. I tried to play a little in the twilight, 
but it makes me so homesick for the children; 
I seemed to hear their little voices singing their 
Christmas carols; and always saw that awful 
German writing on the shutters, "Geschafts- 
zimmer" — ^but I must leave it for Francis to see. 

We still hear the cannon, but more faintly. I 
don't feel now as if ever I could be gay or happy 
again in the place, but perhaps that feeling will 
pass when the war is over, and "the troops are 
marching home again with gay and gallant tread" 
— ^but when ? 

Saturday, November 7th, '14. 
It was foggy but not cold this morning. I 
walked about the village a little after breakfast; 
always the same story of pillage and misery. 
Most of the women and children have no clothes 
left, and no money to buy any. Everybody was 
very sad, as a funeral service was going on for one 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 143 

of the village boys, twenty years old, a little shep- 
herd, tue a rennemi. Of course we all think of 
our own at the front, and hardly dare to pray 
that they may come back. 

The cure has made me a first list of a hundred 
children, ranging from one year old to twelve, boys 
and girls, all wanting warm clothes. I found some 
flannel in the village which will make shirts and 
petticoats; that will give the women something 
to do; they will be glad to earn a little money; 
and it will be easier for me than buying the things 
in Paris, particularly as they don't send anything 
yet by rail. 

We had sent for a carriage from Thomas at 
La Ferte, but at 3 o'clock nothing had come, and 
after 6 no equipages are allowed to circulate. We 
tried to find one in the village, but there are 
scarcely any horses left. Finally the farmer next 
door lent us his little country dog-cart, and we 
started off with our sauf- conduit. Nanna and I 
sat behind, and Barling in front with a package 
of hospital sheets and bandages. 

The road was absolutely deserted except for 
military automobiles, and there were soldiers 
everywhere. It was really dark when we got to 
La Ferte at 4 o'clock, and I was rather worrying 
over our return, as wehad no lights. La Ferte is 
quite changed. I should never have recognised 
the dull little provincial town, with no movement 
of any kind except on market-day, when a few 



144 MY ^^^ DIARY 

carts were drawn up on the mall, and the neigh- 
bouring farmers jogged along on their funny old- 
fashioned cabriolets. Now it is full of soldiers; 
cannon and munition- wagons on the mall; the 
bridge over the canal, blown up and replaced by 
a temporary rickety wooden structure. The 
shops were open and lighted, I should think doing 
good business. 

I had some difficulty in getting some petroleum. 
I was received with enthusiasm; everybody 
wanted to talk, to tell me their experiences and to 
hear mine. The town had siiffered very little 
during the German occupation, thanks to the 
cure, the Abbe Detigne, who remained all the 
time, and certainly saved the town by his courage 
and coolness. 

I went to the Presbytere to see him. He was 
out, but his sister told me she would find him in 
the town and send him to the Hotel-Dieu. I 
went there to see the sisters and leave my parcels, 
stopping on the way at the butcher's to buy a 
gigot, as I had asked oiu* cure to dinner. I had 
a nice talk with the sisters, who asked me if I 
would give them some wool as they have taught 
the girls to knit socks, but can't get any wool in 
the country. They had only a few wounded 
Germans. *' Madame voudrait les voir?" No, 
Madame didn't feel as if she could see a German, 
coming directly from Mareuil where they worked 
such havoc. The old Mere Superieure did not 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 145 

insist; merely remarked: *'Ce sont des soldats, 
Madame, qui font leur devoir comme les notres." 
It is quite true — all the same I didn't want to see 
them. 

The abbe came in just as we were starting. He 
was very preoccupied about our return in the 
dark, along the lonely road, with a child driving, 
and wanted us to stay the night at the Presbytere 
— couldn't imagine that it was possible to stay at 
Mareuil; at any rate we had better dine with 
him. He evidently thought I had no shelter nor 
food, and nothing to cook it in if I had any. 
However, I reassured him; told him we had our 
dinner in the cart, and the ciu-e de Mareuil was 
coming to dine with me. All I wanted was a 
lantern. The sisters procured me one, and wanted 
to give me hot wine and biscuits to eat on the 
way — ^but that was really not necessary, as it is 
not more than eight kilometres and the road was 
fairly good — not too much cut up. 

It was a mild evening, a little damp, but we 
had warm cloaks, and Barling held the lantern 
up high, swung on a cane. It was pitch-dark, 
nothing on the road, except military automobiles, 
which dashed by at full speed, their great lanterns 
lighting up the road for a few seconds. No one 
molested us, nor asked for our papers, though we 
didn't get home until 7 o'clock. 

Mme. G., rather anxious, was at the gate. 
The cure came to dinner, and he sat afterward 



146 MY WAR DIARY 

for about an hour in the fumoir, and he told me 
of their hurried flight from Mareuil, and the 
fatigues of the journey, the whole party sleeping 
in the fields, imder haystacks, with very little to 
eat or drink, hardly daring to stop at night for five 
or six hours to rest, for fear of being caught by 
the Germans. In some of the villages the Ger- 
mans forced the fugitives they met on the road, 
to go back to work for them. One poor old man 
in our village was not quick enough, nor strong 
enough to carry some wood. They pricked him 
with the bayonet, telling him he wouldn't die yet ; 
he would live long enough to become a German. 
The village was away for thirteen days, wan- 
dering along the roads, delighted when they could 
get a bimdle of straw in a bam to sleep on. 

Sunday, November 8th. 

I didn't go to church as the service was early, 
8 o'clock, but I walked about the village and 
found more flannel and cotton which I can leave 
here. The women can make chemises and petti- 
coats for themselves. The poor people look dread- 
fully depressed without work or money. It is 
very difflciilt to know how to help them. How- 
ever, I promised to come down about Christmas 
and bring some warm clothes. I would like to 
start a knitting class, but the cur6 tells me so 
few people knit. 

We leave at 2.30. I have made an exhaustive 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 147 

tour in the garden with the boy and a gardener 
who works for us occasionally. It must all be 
dug up; lawns, flower-beds — and in the spring, 
if the Germans are out of France, we will see what 
can be done. As long as they are so near us 
there is no use doing anything, as they will cer- 
tainly biun and ruin all they can as they leave. 

I couldn't find out anything about the people 
in the neighbourhood in the different chateaux. It 
is a curious feature in this war, no one knows 
anything about any one. Unless you are in the 
country and pass a house or farm that was 
burned or knocked to pieces, no one knows. 

The cannon was loud and incessant this morn- 
ing. I ask myself all the time: Am I really at 
Mareuil, our quiet little village, or is it all a bad 
dream ? Ah, what a wicked war ! 

Paris, Thursday, November 12th. 
We got back Sunday, to dinner. A tiring 
journey, and I must have caught cold as I have 
been stiff and rather miserable ever since. Didn't 
go to the ouvroir until to-day. Mr. Mygatt has 
brought over excellent stuffs and wool from Lon- 
don, better and cheaper than anything he can 
get here. The big room looked very business- 
like with its piles of cloth and flannel. Mme. del 
Marmol brought us a doctor (soldier) who was 
starting a field-hospital near Chalons, just behind 
the last line of trenches. He came to ask for 



MY WAR DIARY 

help for his hospital. "What do you want?'* 
we asked him. ''Everything," was his prompt 
reply; and we made him two enormous bundles 
with everything we had in stock, from sleeping- 
bags to socks. Unfortunately we had no hospital 
stores, but he thought he could get them from 
the Croix Rouge. He helped make the trunks, 
kneeling down on the floor, and carried them off 
in a cab. 

The fighting is terrible on the Yser, the Germans 
attacking furiously, but making no progress; but 
the loss of life on both sides is awful. They say 
the Yser runs red with blood in some parts. The 
lines of the Scottish poet, Thomas Campbell, 
which I learned as a child, come back to me all 
the time: 

"On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly." 

Tuesday, November 17th. 
It has been a bright, beautiful day, just enough 
crispness in the air to remind one that auttmm 
was coming to an end. It was really a pleasure 
to be out. I always walk over to the ouvroir. It 
takes one about twenty minutes. Little by little, 
the shops are opening, quite a nimiber in the rue 
de la Beotie. Almost all, except the grocers and 
bakers, have soldiers' things: waistcoats, jerseys, 
passe-montagnes of every description. We are 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 149 

always looking for models of the simplest kind, 
with as few buttons, strings, and pockets as pos- 
sible. 

The equipment of our poilus is much simpler 
than that of the Tommies. Some of the older, 
old-fashioned officers are astounded at the bag- 
gage which follows the British army. 

About 3 o'clock I went with the Mygatts to 
one of the hospitals of the Petites Soeurs des 
Pauvres, in the rue Lafayette. Cardinal Amette, 
the Archbishop of Paris, was coming to see the 
wounded. We took over ten of our paquets 
milit aires and bundles of pansements, as the hos- 
pital is very poor. The sisters have given up 
their beds. They had so few extra ones. 

The paquets are very good, shirt, drawers, 
jerseys, socks, and passe-montagne, a sort of hel- 
met which goes over the kepi, and protects the 
back of the neck; everything in wool. We pre- 
fer to give fewer things but in good quality. It 
is useless to send cotton to men in the trenches. 

There was quite a stir in the street when we 
arrived at our destination. The church at the 
end of a long narrow court, with its big doors 
open, the altar brilliantly lighted; the body of 
the church dark, outlines of kneeling figures just 
visible ; quite a nimiber of people waiting at the 
door of the convent. 

The Cardinal came very punctually. (It was 
a pleasure to see the red cap and robes.) He is a 



150 MY WAR DIARY 

good-looking man, tall, rather the military type — 
spoke charmingly to the Mere Superieure, who 
was waiting at the door — and went with her into 
all the wards, speaking to each man. A Sene- 
galais convalescent, black as ink, standing in 
the row of white beds, was a curious sight. I don't 
think he imderstood anything the Cardinal said, 
but he smiled and showed all his dazzling white 
teeth. 

The Cardinal said he would come and benir 
notre ouvroir. 

Mrs. Herrick came in late and was charming, 
always so ready to help and doing it all so simply. 
She thinks they will go soon, but I can't think the 
government could make such a mistake. 

Thursday, November 19th. 
I had a line from Mrs. Herrick last night say- 
ing they were leaving on the 28th. It doesn't 
seem possible. I went to the Embassy after 
breakfast; there were several people there, all 
much disturbed by the Ambassador's sudden de- 
parture. He was quite smiling and composed. 
I think he is deeply sorry _^ to go while things are 
in such a serious state. He has been so interested 
in France and all she has been going through in 
those tragic months that it will be a wrench to 
leave it all just now. Of course, once the break 
is made and he has got back to America, he will 
find so much to do that France and the war will 
gradually recede into the past. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 151 

I think Mrs. Herrick is glad to go back to her 
children and grandchildren, though she enjoyed 
the life in France. They have made quantities 
of friends over here. 

Sunday, November 22nd. 

Another enchanting day. I walked about a 
little after church and sat on a bench in the 
avenue de I'Alma, and talked to three wounded 
soldiers who were sitting there in the sun. They 
all had crutches, but told me they were getting 
better, and none had lost arms or legs. They 
had all been wounded at the Battle of the Marne; 
were not in the least discouraged, and were pining 
to get back and have another shot at the Boches. 
One of them, with quite an educated voice and 
language, said: **They thought they were going 
to get Paris, Madame ! They will never have it, 
our beautiful Paris. They would have to walk 
over bodies, not only of soldiers, but of women 
and children, before they could get in!'* 

One or two passers-by stopped and joined in 
the conversation, and we ended by discussing the 
battle of the Marne: "A miracle," some one said. 

It is astonishing the camaraderie this war has 
brought about; everybody talks to everybody; 
and everybody helps. 

Monday, November 23 rd. 
I lunched at the U. S. Embassy this morning, 
and went afterward with the Ambassadress to 



152 MY WAR DIARY 

the American Ambulance, where I had given ren- 
dezvous to two French ladies, Duchesse de T. and 
Princesse dA., who wanted very much to see it. 
They made a most thorough inspection, and were 
delighted with the order and beautiful cleanliness 
of everything. The big ward looked most cheer- 
ful, brightly lighted. The rows of beds spotlessly 
clean and tidy. All the nurses in white, many 
ladies we know; some professionals, and quite a 
nimiber of young men of society who were unable 
for some reason or other to join the army, but 
were anxious to do something to help. They, too, 
were in white, the regular infirmier's dress, and 
the wounded seemed quite at ease with them, 
evidently liked to have them about. 

I talked a little to two young Irishmen, each of 
whom had lost a leg. They were quite smiling 
and ready to talk. Sometimes it is not easy to 
make conversation; the men are shy or tired. 
The doctor asked me if I would go into one of the 
small rooms where there were some grands blesses 
— ^four in one room. I didn't want to, very much, 
as I am very impressionable, and could do nothing 
to help them — but I didn't like to refuse. Two 
of the men biuied their faces in their pillows, 
evidently didn't want to be talked to, and the 
others tried with such a pitiful smile to answer 
and be grateful for our sympathy; but what can 
one say to them? 

We went down afterward to the tea-room. Ev- 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 153 

ery afternoon, three or four ladies provide tea 
and cakes for the nurses and various functionaries 
of the Ambulance. We found the tea-room quite 
full of white aproned nurses and infirmiers, and 
big, burly chauffeurs of automobiles, and three or 
four boy scouts. The ladies behind the long 
table were kept very busy, and teapots and plates 
of buns and good heavy substantial plum cakes 
were being constantly replenished. 

My French friends were much interested in the 
hospital. Such abundance of everything, so much 
given, and so wonderfully light and clean. No de- 
tail escaped them, not even a corner of a cor- 
ridor, where some women were washing and pre- 
paring green vegetables. 

Thursday, Thanksgiving Day. 

I went to church, as I feel I have much to be 
thankful for, in this awful year which has brought 
mourning to so many homes. We had a quiet 
dinner — very unlike our Thanksgiving dinners at 
Mareuil, where we had always that day a regular 
American menu: Turkey, cranberry sauce and 
pumpkin pie for those who liked it. No French 
of any category ever tasted the pie. They are just 
as conservative about their food as they are in 
everything else, and only eat what they are accus- 
tomed to. 

I wonder what next Thanksgiving will bring 
us, France has held her own wonderfully, so 



154 MY WAR DIARY 

far, and has shown such quiet, steady determina- 
tion, besides her splendid fighting quahties. 

There must be so many changes all over the 
world after the war, and surely a change of men- 
tality. The men who have fought such an awful 
fight, and the women who have lived through the 
suspense and trials of these terrible days, can 
never shake off those memories and take up the 
old, easy life again. 

Friday, November 27 th. 

I had a long afternoon at the ouvroir. We had 
a great many soldiers and some of the older men 
looked sad ! It is terrible for the men of the 
pays evacues. They have been for months with- 
out news of their families. 

I went later to say good-bye to the Herricks, 
who leave to-morrow. Their salon was full of 
people, all deploring their departure. I waited 
until nearly 8 o'clock to see the Ambassador, but 
he didn't come in. I walked home in the dark, 
thinking regretfully that I should never cross 
their hospitable threshold again. . . . 

December ist, Tuesday. 
Quiet day at the ouvroir. We are getting 
through a great deal of work, and have at last 
arranged to get our wool and stuffs from England. 
Here everything is hors prix, and besides taken by 
the Government. One of my friends went to buy 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 155 

some wool the other day, and would have taken 
a large amount, but while the woman was getting 
it together, two men with military brassards 
on their arms, came in and forbade the woman 
to give it. They took all she had for the army. 
My friend remonstrated, saying she too wanted 
her's for the soldiers, but they wouldn't let her 
have any. It is comfortable in one way being 
under martial law. One feels so absolutely pro- 
tected, but there is no appeal possible if they tell 
you a thing can't be. 

I found a telegram from Charlotte when I 
came home this evening. Francis' regiment is 
ordered to the front. She and the boys come to 
Paris on Thursday. 

Thursday, 3rd December, 
Rue de la Pompe. 

It seems strange to be here again in my apart- 
ment, but I can't leave Charlotte quite alone. I 
have divided my time between here and the rue 
de la Tremoille. C. and the boys arrived at 7 
o'clock. I went to the Gare St. Lazare to meet 
them. They all look perfectly well; boys splen- 
did. We sent the luggage straight up here, and 
dined at la Tremoille with Henrietta. The boys 
have grown so much older, with so much to tell. 
They had seen the regiment start, and "Papa 
arme with his rifle and revolver!" Poor little 
things ! they have seen so much sadness since the 



156 MY WAR DIARY 

beginning. of the war. The regiment is at Aulnay, 
near Paris, for a few days only, en route for the 
front. Where, they don't know — Belgium, I 
suppose. 

I think we shall be comfortable here. We 
shan't use the salon and my room, but live all 
together in Francis' part, where we each have a 
bedroom, with dining-room and fumoir. 

Friday, December 4th, 
Rue la Tremoille. 

We all lunched here and went afterward to 
the ouvroir, where we had the visit of Cardinal 
Amette, Archbishop of Paris. We had asked sev- 
eral ladies who knew him to come: Duchesse de 
Trevise, Comtesse de B., Comtesse de B — ^nes, etc. 
He was quite charming. Two or three priests 
came with him, and he looked at our stuffs and 
was so simple and interested in everything; said, 
as every one does, that the soldiers needed warm 
things. He spoke very nicely to the women, all 
soldiers' wives and refugees, who were working in 
one of the rooms. It was nice of him to come as 
he has so much to do. I was so glad to see the 
red robes again. They always recall Rome and 
the happy days there — so long ago — when I think 
that we all saw Pio Nono. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 157 

Monday, December 7th, 
Rue de la Pompe. 

The boys began school this morning. Char- 
lotte went with Mrs. Mygatt to see about some 
stuffs for the ouvroir. She had a telegram from 
Francis asking her to come and see him at Aulnay. 
She went off about 3.30. It is close to Paris — 
would take about half an hour by train in ordi- 
nary times, but the service is very irregular — so 
many employees are at the front, and the passen- 
ger-trains are constantly stopped to let troops 
pass. 

I came up here after the ouvroir and dined 
with the boys. C. came in about 9.30; said 
Francis was very well, had a very nice room, and 
wanted us to go and see him to-morrow. We 
can only go late as women are not supposed to go 
out there, but after dark no one pays much at- 
tention, and the officers shut their eyes. It is so 
near Paris, only an hour by train, that they would 
certainly have not only the soldiers* wives, but 
women of a certain class, which would not be de- 
sirable. 

Tuesday, December 8th. 
We had two hours with Francis to-day. C. and 
I took the 4 o'clock train, stopping at a p^tissier's 
on the way to buy two large tarts for the mess of 
the sous-officiers. Soldiers are such children. 
They always want bonbons and cakes, cigarettes, 



158 MY WAR DIARY 

or picture papers. We were in a very long train, 
had German prisoners on board, the first I have 
seen. They got off at Le Bourget. Quite a 
crowd assembled on the platform to see them pass 
as they walked down guarded by a few French 
fantassins. 

The men looked young — tired, but their uni- 
forms were clean — didn't look as if they had been 
fighting lately. Nobody said anything or made 
a hostile demonstration of any kind. There was 
absolute silence. 

Francis met us at the station as it was dark. 
It was the first time I had seen him in imiform. 
He looked very well, very sombre ; wears no longer 
the red culotte. All the men at the front wear 
dark blue, even the buttons of his coat were dark. 
He took us to his room in the only hotel near the 
station, where he had made himself very com- 
fortable, and was on the best of terms with his 
patronne. He gave us tea and chocolate. The 
patronne made us very good toast, and smiled 
all over when he complimented her on her tea. 
We had a nice white nappe. There were only 
two chairs in the room, so he sat on the bed. He 
was very cheerful, said there was no chance of 
his getting to Paris. We hoped he might have 
come for Christmas. He didn't think they would 
stay long at Aulnay. Had no idea where they 
would go. He is so pleased to get to the front 
and see something of the fighting. It was nice 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 159 

to see him again. He looked well, but older and 
graver. 

We left about 7. The streets of the little place 
were full of soldiers and their wives, who appar- 
ently had managed to get out to the regiment. 

Thursday, December loth. 

I was at the ouvroir all the afternoon. C. took 
the boys out to Aulnay. While we were at dinner 
she came in, looking rather white and upset. 
Regiment ordered to the front, somewhere be- 
tween Rheims and Soissons; starts to-morrow 
morning, 4 o'clock. 

Francis and Charlotte went shopping at Aul- 
nay. He had to buy himself flannel shirts and 
drawers as his things were at the wash. Poor 
little Willy was quite nervous and tearful as his 
father told him he was going to the front; might 
never come back, and that he must be very good 
and take care of his mother and little brother 
and D. How many soldier-fathers all over France 
have said the same thing to their boys! 

Monday, December 14th. 
We have decided to go down to Mareuil, Char- 
lotte, the boys, and I, on the i8th. I have written 
to Mme. Gaillard to have the house well warmed. 
We shall take down a provision of warm clothes. 
Thanks to our friends, we have been able to get 
a lot of things. 



i6o MY WAR DIARY 

Wednesday, December i6th. 
We are very busy at the ouvroir fitting out the 
children of Mareuil. We have very long lists 
from the cure and the schoolmistress. When I 
went over just now, I found Charlotte established 
in one of the small rooms, and surrounded by 
piles of coats, costumes, dresses, petticoats, shirts, 
drawers, socks of all sizes, from a baby of eight 
weeks to an old woman of ninety-five. Mile. 
Jeanne was sorting the things and pinning tickets 
with the names on the garments. Our bundles 
will be huge, but Mr. M. has lent us his auto- 
camion, which will take the things from door to 
door. 

Thursday, December 17th. 
We filled the camion this afternoon, as the man 
wants to start early to-morrow morning. The 
boys wildly excited, helping put in the packages, 
and suggesting that they should go, too, in the 
camion. 

Mareuil, Friday, December i8th, 1914. 
I am writing at night. Although it is only 
10 o'clock, the whole household is wrapped in 
slumber, as we have had a tiring day. We left 
Paris, Charlotte, her boys, the maid, and I, at 
9.30, still with a fair amount of packages, pro- 
visions mostly, as Mme. Gaillard wrote us we 
could not get anything at Mareuil but bread, but- 







OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 i6i 

ter, and apples. She thought the butcher from La 
Ferte would come when he knew we were there, 
but wasn't sure. 

We had a tiring journey, a long, cold wait at 
Ormoy; and the boys were much impressed over 
the various traces of the war. In one field we 
saw three graves with a little French flag to mark 
the spot. A little farther on, quite a row with a 
cross made of sticks at one end. They looked so 
lonely in the middle of the bare field. 

From Ormoy to Mareuil, at almost all the sta- 
tions, roofs were off, the houses — doors and win- 
dows gone — ^bare walls. We got to Mareuil 
about 2 o'clock. Of course Mme. G. hadn't re- 
ceived either letter or telegram, but the camion 
had arrived and prepared them for our coming. 
Our friend, Mr. Mygatt, lent us his auto-camion 
to bring down all our things. It was so much 
more convenient to load it directly at the ouvroir. 
We had no troubles about trunks, or tickets, or 
weighing. Bundles of all kinds and sizes were 
crammed into the car; some blankets and thick 
coats just tied up with a string, as the auto went 
from door to door. We loaded it yesterday after- 
noon late at the ouvroir, and I was quite astonished 
when all the packages got in. 

The chauffeur, the faithful Marius, had already 
unloaded boxes and trunks, which had been car- 
ried into the house. He started straight back, 
as he wanted to get into Paris before dark. It 



i62 MY WAR DIARY 

was a bright, lovely afternoon, and the boys 
dashed at once into the garden to see if the Boches 
had spoiled their garden and gymnasium. The 
poor garden looked awful, all dug up, only two 
or three pots of chrysanthemums were left in the 
tool-house. 

The cure came to tea, and we plunged instantly 
into lists: warm clothes, blankets, etc. He had 
two himdred and odd children on his list. (He 
had been to every cottage in the village to make 
sure that no child was left out.) Also about six- 
teen or eighteen young mothers, with babies in 
their arms, girls and boys up to eighteen — all the 
old people. It seemed rather an undertaking to 
clothe so many people, but our bundles and trunks 
held a great deal. 

We decided to make our distribution on Sun- 
day, as we really needed all day Saturday to sort 
out the things; besides I had promised to go to 
La Ferte in the afternoon to see the Abbe Deti- 
gne, and take some wool to the sisters. The house 
was cold though there were fires everywhere — 
but such fires ! still no coal, only little blocks and 
ends of wood we got from the sawmill, and it 
has naturally an empty, uncomfortable look. 

We put all the rugs and blankets we possessed 
on the beds. There weren't many, as the Ger- 
mans had carried everything off. 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 163 

Saturday, December 19th, '14. 

It has been again a lovely day, the sun shining 
in at all the windows, showing us more distinctly 
even than yesterday all that has been taken. 
Still we are comfortable enough in our corner, 
and I suppose ought to be thankfiil that we have 
anything left. 

We had people all the morning asking for warm 
clothes and looking, I must say, utterly wretched, 
half -starved, and frozen. Our village was not so 
perfectly miserable, but some of the refugees from 
the environs of Soissons and Rheims were in a 
pitiable condition, weary and cold and terror- 
stricken. They had been chased out of their 
villages, their cottages burned, all the old people, 
grandfathers and grandmothers, left to die prob- 
ably on the roadside. Even in our village some 
people have never come back. No one knows 
what has become of them. The children had a 
frightened look in their eyes, which was heart- 
rending to see. The mothers didn't complain; 
were very grateful for anything we gave them, 
but they all had a hopeless expression on their 
faces, a quiet, half-dazed acceptance of the ruin 
which had come upon them. 

We breakfasted early and started for La Ferte 
before 10 o'clock (we had to have sauf -conduits 
from the mayor) in the tapissiere of Bourgeois, 
the grocer — a most primitive vehicle, a cart with 
a canvas cover, no springs, and very hard, narrow 



i64 MY WAR DIARY 

seats. The cover was so low that Charlotte had 
to take off her hat and hang it on a nail on one 
side of the curtain. The road looked exactly the 
same as when I was here the last time — nothing 
passing but military autos, a few officers riding. 
At Boumeville there is a sentry-box just outside 
the gate; a service de ravitaillement is stationed 
there. 

There was a good deal of movement at La Ferte, 
soldiers, cannon, and munition- wagons every- 
where. We went first to the Presbytere to see 
the abbe. He wasn't at home, but we saw his 
sister, and asked her to tell him we hoped he 
would come and lunch with us on Monday. 
Then we went to the Hotel- Dieu and left a good 
package of clothes and wool with the sisters. 
The old Mere Superieure, who has been there for 
forty years, was so pleased to see us — told the 
boys she remembered their father when he was a 
baby in long clothes. She gave them a German 
knapsack which they were delighted to have, as 
they are making a collection of all the German 
war material they can find to make a musee de 
guerre. 

It was lovely coming home; except for the un- 
natural quiet — ^not a sound, no children playing 
on the road. The cure came to dinner with a 
supplementary list, and we worked hard all the 
evening. It was not easy to sort and mark all 
the garments. The boys helped at first, sitting 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 165 

on the floor among the heaps of blankets, rolling 
them and pinning on tickets imtil they were drop- 
ping with sleep ! 

We have only two bedrooms. I have one, my 
own room, and Charlotte and the boys are next 
to me. We moved two beds into the room, and 
they are quite comfortable. 

Sunday, December 20th. 

We have made our distribution, and I think 
have not only given pleasure, but encouraged the 
people. We went to church this morning and the 
cure announced from the pulpit that there would 
be a distribution of warm clothes at the chateau 
— to which every child in Mareuil was bidden, 
also the girls and young men still in the village. 
He hoped they would all assemble quietly and 
punctually in the courtyard, at a quarter to 3 , di- 
rectly after vespers. 

We had cleared the dining-room, taken every- 
thing, carpet, chairs, and tables, out of it, then 
opened the folding-doors into the fumoir, and 
put a table across. Charlotte stood in the fumoir 
behind the table. On one side there was a pile 
of clothes which Mme. G. passed to her, telling 
her the names. On the other, two large baskets 
filled with cakes and chocolates which our maid 
and the little lingere from the village distributed. 
We couldn't undertake a gouter with hot chocolate 
and brioches. We hadn't any cups and saucers 



i66 MY WAR DIARY 

except the few we had brought down with us, 
and we couldn't have found a hundred in the 
whole village. 

By 2.30 the courtyard was filled with children 
and their mothers. In fact the whole village — 
but we only allowed the children inside. 

First came the schoolboys, marshalled by the 
cure. (The schoolmaster is mobilised, but a 
youth of nineteen comes every day from a village 
near and takes the class.) The boys were rather 
shy and awkward; didn't say much, but I think 
they were pleased. Every one got a pair of trou- 
sers or warm cape with a hood, like what they all 
wear here. The little ones got a suit, and all got 
two cakes and a big piece of chocolate. Then 
came the schoolgirls led by the schoolmistress and 
her adjointe — about a hundred. They, too, got 
each one a dress, cloak, or warm petticoat. Then 
they trooped out, and another hundred arrived 
— ^boys and girls mixed — mostly little waifs and 
strays — not schoolchildren ; and at the same time 
young mothers with babies in their arms. Then 
there was a fine pandemoniimi. The women 
talked, the babies cried; various children whose 
names were on the list didn't appear, and there 
were several quite unknown children, refugees, or 
from the neighbouring hamlets, who had heard 
of the distribution. They were in rags, sorely 
needed clothes, and all got something. 

Then came boys and girls from twelve to seven- 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 167 

teen. Some of the boys looked like men, so tall 
and broad. C. said she felt quite shy offering them 
chocolate and cakes, but they all took them. 

It was after 5 when the distribution was over. 
C. was very tired, having stood ever since break- 
fast. She did it very prettily and graciously. 
She knew all the children, having had them in the 
garden all the month of August. She had or- 
ganised a garderie, where the children could come 
every day while their mothers were working in 
the fields, getting in the harvest. They had 
games for the little ones, and the older girls worked 
at socks or shirts for soldiers. 

The cure announced that the blankets for the 
old women would only be distributed the next 
day, also the wool for the tricoteuses, who were 
told to come at 10 o'clock Monday morning. 

The children had all remained in the court- 
yard, and there was a fine noise of clattering 
sabots and shrill little voices. The air in the 
dining-room with the smell of muddy boots and 
damp clothes, was something awful. We opened 
all the windows wide, and dined in the fumoir. 

We heard the cannon all the afternoon. 

Monday, December 21st. 

Charlotte had her tricoteuses this morning 

early — about twenty. Of course we supplied the 

needles and wool, which was carefully weighed, 

each woman receiving the same quantity. Some 



1 68 MY WAR DIARY 

of the older ones knew how to knit socks, but the 
younger ones were a Httle unwilHng — could make 
cache-nez, but that we absolutely refused. Char- 
lotte was very severe with them; told them she 
didn't know either how to knit stockings until 
the war, but she had learned, and now made all 
her husband's socks. One of the ladies of the 
village said any woman who wanted a lesson 
could come to her any day between i and 2, and 
she would help her — and Charlotte left a sock as 
a model. 

The Abbe Detigne, cure de La Ferte, came to 
breakfast, and was most interesting. He is a 
very clever, cultivated man, a good earnest priest, 
devoted to his church, but very large-minded, 
understanding beliefs he doesn't share, and never 
intolerant. He behaved splendidly all through 
the German occupation. They had Germans for 
ten days at La Ferte. Almost all the official peo- 
ple — Conseil Municipal, percepteiu* — ^went away. 
The mayor was arrested at once, kept in prison, 
and the cure and one conseiller municipal had all 
the responsibility. He said on the whole they 
behaved well; but their revolvers were always 
pointed at one if there was the slightest discussion 
or delay. 

They began by asking a ransom of frs. 20,000 — 
which the little town couldn't possibly pay. The 
cure asked for a little patience, said he would 
do what he could, and, escorted by four German 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 169 

soldiers with fixed bayonets, made the round of 
the town, knocking at every door. He got frs. 
7,000 — with which they were satisfied. He had 
soldiers at the Presbytere and in his churches 
(there are two fine old churches at La Ferte), 
which he asked them to respect, and they did; 
remained at the bottom of the church, didn't go 
up to the high altar. He thought once or twice 
his last hour had come when some of the officers 
either didn't understand all he said (though he 
said most of them spoke French well), or were not 
satisfied. Instantly the revolver was pointed at 
him, and a curt order given to the men. He 
waited calmly and bravely, merely thinking that, 
if he was to be shot, he would ask to be shot on 
the Calvaire, the cross near the woods — ^which we 
all know well — ^have often sat and rested on the 
steps after a walk in the woods — until he heard 
the welcome words: **Vous etes libre. Monsieur 
le Cure." 

The last day, while the soldiers were getting 
ready to start, a young officer came in whom 
he hadn't seen before. He saw at once that he 
was a personage. The men seemed petrified. He 
gave a few instructions, then turned to the cure, 
drew up an armchair and sat down, saying : * ' Cau- 
sons un peu. Monsieur le Cure" ("Let us talk a 
little"), and instantly plunged into a discussion 
on the war. "What do you think of the war, 
M. le Cure ?" "Monsieur, what do you expect a 



I70 MY WAR DIARY 

priest to say? A war is a wicked thing." "Yes, 
but war is war, and you would have it. We didn't 
want the war.*' Then turning to his men : "That 
is true, isn't it, my men? We Germans didn't 
want the war; it was forced upon us." There 
was a growl of assent from the men. He then 
continued: "War always brings horrors, and 
misery. Have you any complaints to make of 
my men ? " " None whatever ; they respected my 
church, didn't molest the women and children." 
"I am glad to hear you say that, M. le Cure." 
Then he got up and put out his hand, saying, 
"Au revoir"; but that was too much for the 
abbe. "That, Madame, I could not do — give my 
hand to a German. I stood up, looked him full 
in the face, and made the salut militaire. He 
stepped back, hesitated a moment, and then gave 
the military salute, very stiffly, saying, "Je vous 
comprends. Monsieur I'Abbe," turned on his heel, 
and left the room. 

He heard afterward that it was Prince Eitel 
Fritz, whom he had never seen — the first time in 
his life, probably, that any one had refused his 
hand. 

The boys, of course, sat speechless, their eyes 
fixed on the abb6. He told us himdreds of de- 
tails too long to write; but said there were no 
atrocities nor violence of any kind at La Ferte, 
though in some of the farms and villages near 
awful things had been done — ^but he personally 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 171 

had not seen any acts of cruelty. He has cer- 
tainly made a fine record. When the war is over, 
all his friends will try to have some public recog- 
nition of what he has done for La Ferte. 

After he had gone Charlotte and the boys went 
to the poste des gendarmes, and gave them what 
we had left in the way of socks. Just as we were 
starting for the train we had the visit of an offi- 
cer du train de ravitaillement, to thank us for 
what we had sent his men. He told us he was 
the first person to come into oiu: house after the 
Germans had left, and that no words could de- 
scribe the filth. His men put a little order, and 
picked up and put in drawers some of the papers 
that were lying about. 

Among other things that the Germans took was 
all the writing-paper stamped **Mareuil-sur-Ourcq, 
Gise." I had just got over a lot from England. 
One wouldn't think that would be very useful in 
Germany 1 

The cure came in after dinner, and we made 
all our arrangements for the women's work, sew- 
ing and knitting. He says the village is very 
pleased with our coming down — not only the 
material help, but the encouragement. One old 
woman, the widow of a carpenter, who had done 
much work for us, came to say that she would 
cut out the shirts. Her father had been a che- 
misier in the rue de la Paix, and she knew all about 
it; would also look over the women's work and 



172 MY WAR DIARY 

see that it was well done. She wanted no pay 
(at our Paris ouvroir we give a tailor 5 sous for 
cutting out a shirt), was very happy to do that 
for the soldiers. We leave to-morrow, early. 

Paris, Thursday, December 24th. 
Charlotte and I went out this morning to do 
a little, very little shopping. She won't have a 
Christmas tree, which the boys quite imderstand. 
* ' War times ' ' explains everything. But they have 
their creche as usual, as all the animals and rois 
mages are there; and hung up their stockings — 
one for father, and we will send him a Christmas 
paquet, with a plum-pudding. 

Christmas Day. 
I went to the American church this morning. 
I felt I must hear ''Hark the herald angels sing." 
There was quite a large congregation ; several sol- 
diers in uniform. Our dinner was as cheerful as 
it could be under the circumstances. We had 
the Sallandrouzes, Madame and Madeleine, -Jean 
and his wife, the W.'s, and C. and the boys. We 
had a small tree in the middle of the table, just 
to mark the day. We tried not to miss Francis 
too awfully; choked a little when we drank to 
our men at the front. I wonder what next 
Christmas will bring us, and how many places will 
be empty at the Christmas dinner. But we 



OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1914 173 

mustn't look forward, only be thankful that after 
five months of war none of our men are touched. 



Sunday, December 27. 
It was cold and bright this morning. I went 
to the English church in the rue Auguste Vac- 
querie. I like Mr. Cardew so much — always 
stay for his sermons ; they are so simple, suited to 
everybody, and yet so scholarly-and thought out. 

Tuesday, December 29th. 

The days are so exactly alike. Time slips by 
without our realising how fast it goes. The Eng- 
lish papers are amusing this morning: All the 
Tommies so pleased with their plum-puddings and 
Christmas gift from the Queen and Princess Mary. 

I am writing late, just to see the old year out. 
The street is perfectly quiet and dark. No balls, 
no reveillons. This tragic year finishes in darkness 
and silence. Certainly if Paris had become too 
frivolous and pleasure-loving, she is expiating it 
now. The people themselves are so changed. 
They are not sad ; that isn't the word, but serious, 
engrossed with the men in the ranks and the 
women and children left behind them. 

Paris is caring well for all her children. There 
are ouvroirs and free meals (very good) every- 
where. 



JANUARY TO JUNE 
1915 



JANUARY TO JUNE 
1915 

Saturday, January 2nd, '15. 
It was bright and cold this morning. I had an 
interesting visit from a Quaker lady, Miss Fel- 
lowes, whom Austin Lee sent me. She has come 
over with friends to do what good they can to the 
civil population of the north of France, and is now 
working in the department of the Aisne, which 
has been frightfully devastated. Their religion 
forbids them to have anything to do with soldiers, 
or the fighters of the world. They will find much 
suffering and distress in all the country where 
the Germans have passed. 

Friday, January 8th. 
To-day is Willy*s tenth birthday. We couldn^t 
let the day pass without some little rejoicing. 
They didn't want a party or any little friends, 
but he had his cake and candles, and whatever 
money he got was put away for ** Papa's soldiers." 
Francis begs us to send clothes and blankets for 
his regiment whenever we can. 

Sunday, January loth. 
Still no war news. The communiques are very 
meagre. I suppose it is right not to give too 
many details, but one longs for something from 
the front. 

177 



178 MY WAR DIARY 

Two days ago the Germans bombarded Sois- 
sons furiously, and tried to advance to our 
trenches, but were beaten back. 

I went to tea this afternoon with the Duchesse 
de T. Only about eight people. Mmes. de B. 
and d*A. were there. Neither of them have had 
a line from their chateaux or villages since some 
time in September. Comte de B. remained in his 
chateau — ^is practically a prisoner there — as he 
has a German general with his staff in his house. 
He would not leave; sent his wife away, but said 
it was his duty to stay in his place and keep his 
village from being btuned, and the women and 
children shot. It has been reported once or twice 
that he was shot; but the news has filtered out 
that he is alive. The Germans told him he might 
write to his family if he would use a German 
stamp, and date his letter: "Folambray [the 
name of his village], Deutschland," but that he 
refused absolutely to do. 

In all the coimtries occupied by the Germans, 
they have established their own post-office, and 
use German stamps. 

The Comtesse d'A.'s chateau is also occupied by 
Germans. None of her family are living there. 
She is a widow, her two sons in the army. 

Saturday, January i6th, '15. 
We had a nice letter from Francis this morning. 
He is getting used to the shells; doesn't mind 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 179 

them so much. The first two or three times that 
he carried despatches at night over impossible 
roads, deafened by the cannon — quite dark; the 
only light the shells bursting all around him — he 
didn't like it much, particularly being alone. 
When there are two of them it doesn't seem so 
awful. 

Monday, January i8th. 

The cure came to breakfast, giving us all the 
Mareuil news. He brought up forty pairs of socks 
our tricoteuses had made, and wanted more wool, 
which we will give him to-morrow, when he goes 
back. He says the village is trying to readjust 
itself and take up its normal life again. If only 
we would come down and settle in the country; 
but that is not possible. 

I dined quietly with the Segurs. I don't much 
like going out at night ; the streets are so dark and 
empty, but they promised to send me home in 
their auto. They have still no news of Claude 
Perier. They have had a letter from one of his 
men who saw him fall at the head of his com- 
pany, but he thinks he was not killed, only 
woimded and a prisoner. 

We sat in S.'s library (no one opens their big 
rooms) and we two women knitted, and he read 
the paper to us. It would have been a peaceful, 
happy evening if we hadn't been so oppressed 
with the thought of what might still come to us. 



i8o MY WAR DIARY 

Saturday, January 23rd. 

It was beautiful this morning. I walked over 
to Mme. de J/s for lunch. She had Mmes. S. 
and M. We all talked war and ouvroir hard. 
The ladies asked me why Francis was not with the 
British army as interpreter, knowing French and 
English as well as he does. It seems that some of 
the Frenchmen who have gone as interpreters 
speak such extraordinary English that the Brit- 
ish officers can't understand their orders. 

M. d'H. came in after breakfast. He is fright- 
fully changed since the war. His chateau has 
been entirely destroyed — bombarded, burnt, pil- 
laged. He and his wife and daughters had just 
time to get away. Mm.e. d'H. arrived in England 
without a hat. The poor man is almost crazy, 
but puts all the fault on this infect gouvernement 
— ^but one can't discuss with him. He is quite 
unbalanced for the moment. 

We had a procession of soldiers at the ouvroir, 
starting for the front and wanting warm clothes. 
There were eight gunners, conduct eurs d' automo- 
biles blindes, fine, strong young fellows. All had 
been wounded, but were quite well and crazy to 
go back. After them, some reservistes. That 
was rather pitiful, as all had wives and families; 
some of them looking as if they could not stand 
much hard work. However, the spirit was just 
the same as in the younger men. All quite ready 
to go, and confident that their wives and children 
would be looked after. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 i8i 

It seems some of the reservistes have developed 
into capital soldiers after four or five months of 
training. 

Francis' captain is a patissier de Montmartre; 
didn't look very military at first, but has become 
a smart, well set-up officer. I think they are all 
anxious to do well, and prove to their country 
that she can count upon all her sons in her hour 
of need. 

Francis' own position is amusing, as he is only 
a simple soldat; no rank at all. He can't live 
with the officers; but when off duty the officers 
and men all call him Monsieur Waddington, and 
the Colonel invites him to breakfast. 

Friday, January 29th, 191 5. 

We didn't have many people at the ouvroir. 
Mmes. Seilliere et Simeon — the last always most 
interesting. Francis couldn't get her any news 
of her house at Rheims. They haven't been al- 
lowed to go there lately, as the Germans shell the 
town ftuiously every now and then. 

Our stuffs are giving out, and our poor women 
increasing in number. Some of them look too 
awful, half starved and half clothed. I didn't like 
to ask one poor thing who came with two children, 
both practically babies, four weeks and one year 
old, if she had any clothes on under her dress — I 
don't think she had. She knew nothing of her hus- 
band ; had had no news since the beginning of De- 
cember. 



1 82 MY WAR DIARY 

We must start a Women and Children's Depart- 
ment — and have ordered from London a thousand 
yards of flannel and a thousand of cotton. We get 
it quickly enough. It is sent over through the 
British Red Cross direct to us at the ouvroir. 

The Tiffanys and Charlotte dined. C. had an 
interesting letter from Francis. He is getting 
accustomed to the shells, learns how to dodge 
them, but says the heavy cannonading is terrific 
— seems to take his head off. 

Tiffany is always interesting, as he sees so many 
business men, both British and Americans; says 
there is no doubt of the American sympathy for 
the Allies, though they are struggling to remain 
neutral. . . . 

Sunday, January 31st. 
The Quakers came to see me at the ouvroir 
to-day; they couldn't say enough of the Abbe 
Detigne, our cure of La Ferte-Milon, and all he 
had done for them. They were obliged to give 
up the farmhouse they had taken between St. 
Quentin and Soissons (it was too near the firing- 
line), and had established themselves at La Ferte. 
They have spent a great deal of money, and have 
distributed many clothes and blankets to the 
miserable people of the pays envahis. They don't 
do any hospital work, care exclusively for the 
civil population. They don't wear the Quaker 
dress, and don't use the "thou" and "thee" that 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 183 

I remember as a child in some parts of America. 
But the women have earnest, gentle faces. They 
left us quite a large order. Of course we are de- 
lighted to sell a little. We have sent off so many 
paquets militaires that our funds are getting low. 

Tuesday, February 2nd, '15, 
Rue de la Pompe. 

Charlotte and I took our paquet for Francis to 
the Invalides this morning, which was accepted at 
once. The last one was refused. We heard the 
explanation later. We took over two enormous 
paquets one day, much over the regulation size, 
but as we said they were clothes and blankets for 
the soldiers, they took them. It is much the best 
way to send packages, as they go through in one 
day by the military autos. All we send by rail, 
goes first to Caen, the dep6t of the regiment, and 
from there to Francis, near Rheims, which makes 
an enormous loss of time. When there are any 
eatables (he clamours for green vegetables and 
fruit) the trajet is long. 

It seems that the two big packages, instead of 
being delivered to Francis at his regimental bureau, 
were sent to the Division Headquarters, and 
dumped in the General's anteroom. He went 
into a rage at seeing these packages for "Soldat 
Waddington" in his anteroom; and an aide-de- 
camp, a friend of Francis, motored over in hot 
haste to Francis to see what it meant. Francis 



1 84 MY WAR DIARY 

was much disgusted, and explained that the bal- 
lots contained clothes and blankets for the regi- 
ment, sent by his mother from her ouvroir. The 
aide-de-camp said he would make that all right, 
and started off for Headquarters. He reappeared 
with the ballots and a message of thanks from the 
General, and the hope that Mme. Waddington 
would send some more warm clothes for the men. 
But in the meantime, the young officer at the In- 
valides had been hauled over the coals probably. 
All's well that ends well, however; and now they 
take our packages. 

Thursday, February 4th. 

I didn't stay long at the ouvroir, as I was going 
to dine with the W.'s at their hotel. Two nice 
people came to their salon after dinner — a M. 
Perritet and his mother. He is from New Or- 
leans, speaks French well, and goes often to the 
front, to a hospital organised by Mme. de P., 
nee MacMahon (the Marshal's daughter). He 
is going again soon, and expects to take a great 
many things. 

He says the American Clearing-House is won- 
derfully filled with every imaginable thing, from 
bedsteads to boxes of Quaker oats. 

It was a bright, cold moonlight night. W. 
walked home with me. The streets are perfectly 
dark and deserted. A footfall on one of the nar- 
row streets quite startles one. I think ours is the 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 185 

darkest of all. Hardly any one has come back. 
There are no lights in the houses, and only one 
lamp at the bottom of the street. 

Saturday, February 6th. 

I was rather tired at the ouvroir to-day. There 
were so many women, and they all talked so much, 
and knew so much; apparently every one had 
constant and confidential communications from 
General Joffre. 

I met Henry Outrey at the door and told him 
he must take me somewhere for a cup of tea. I 
was tired with so much female conversation. 
Outrey is working at the Croix Rouge; goes 
three or four times a week to the station at 
Aubervilliers, near Paris, where the trains of 
wounded soldiers arrive. They stop there to have 
their wounds dressed. There is a hospital on the 
quay. The Red Cross nurses always there. He 
stays all night (so do the women), and says the 
sights are awful; some of the men too badly 
hurt to go on are taken out of the train and laid 
on mattresses or piles of straw, on the quay, until 
they can be attended to. They never complain; 
try to smile and thank when any one brings them 
a bowl of soup or a cup of hot coffee. 

Henry says they are terrible objects, their uni- 
forms filled with dust and blood, which stiffens 
on the thick cloth of their capotes, unwashed, 
tmshaven. I suppose one must go on to the bitter 



1 86 MY WAR DIARY 

end; but I ask myself sometimes, if it is worth 
the frightful sacrifice of life. I often stop at the 
church of St. Philippe du Roule on my way home. 
Already there are so many women in deep mourn- 
ing — ^what will it be later? 

Tuesday, February 9th. 
Mme. Thenard (de la Comedie-Frangaise) gave 
a conference on Deroulede this afternoon at the 
ouvroir. She is always interesting, and though 
she has lost her wonderful voice, she uses such 
beautiful language and speaks with so much 
emotion that the audience, quite numerous, was 
moved to tears. She recited the Clairon, and 
wound up with an appeal to the women of France 
to lead more earnest, simple lives. Men are what 
women make them, and the mothers and wives 
have a terrible responsibility in these awful days. 
There was a wounded officer in the audience, just 
from the Yser, with his arm in a sling, and a 
Belgian boy scout sixteen years old, who had been 
nineteen times through the enemy's lines, and had 
been decorated by the King of the Belgians, 
who pinned his medal himself on his coat. He 
was, of course, surroimded and questioned after 
the conference, but looked very shy and imcom- 
fortable, finding himself the object of general 
attention. However, I don't think any one kissed 
him, which sometimes happens in these emotional 
days. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 187 

Thursday, February nth. 

There is startling news this morning. Gerard, 
U. S. Ambassador, insulted at a Berlin theatre — 
most angry, hostile demonstration. Of course 
we have it only in the papers. It may be exag- 
gerated. I can't think that Germany wants to 
quarrel with America. It would be about the 
last blimder she could make. 

I don't know Mr. Gerard, but I hear that he is 
a cool, clever lawyer, who would resent the least 
slight to America. 

Friday, February 12th. 
We were busy all the afternoon at the ouvroir, 
making pacquets milit aires. We sent off a good 
one to Mme. Machery, the "Mayor of Soissons." 
My husband knew Soissons well in earher years 
when he was Senator for the Aisne. Mme. M. 
has shown wonderful courage ever since the war 
broke out, and for the last two or three days 
there have been appeals in the papers for the 
refugees, who are leaving it en masse. Half the 
town is in ashes. Such a typical old French 
cathedral town, with its broad, quiet streets, with 
old-fashioned houses behind high walls — the beau- 
tiful ruins of the St. Jean des Vignes — and on mar- 
ket-days the main street and hotel (the "Cheval 
Blanc") crowded with farmers and country peo- 
ple. What aU that country will look like when the 
Germans finally retreat one can't imagine; they 



1 88 MY WAR DIARY 

will certainly bum and destroy all they can. It 
will take years to restore any kind of trade or 
prosperity. 

Mareuil, Saturday, February 13th, 1915. 

We got down yesterday at 2.30. The boys had 
a holiday for Mardi Gras, and of course wanted 
to come to Mareuil. It was a cold, boring jour- 
ney. We had the same long wait at Ormoy, but 
we did not mind it so much this time as the station 
was crowded with soldiers. Two military trains 
with dragoons and cuirassiers arrived just after 
us; all of them, officers, men, and horses, looked 
very well and cheerful. They had come from 
Amiens; hadn't had much fighting yet, and were 
on their way to the front. They didn't know 
where. The little station was in an uproar at 
once. The officers asked for papers. There were 
none at the station, nor at the cafe just across the 
road, so we told the boys to give oiu-s, which they 
accepted gladly. 

The fatigue-dress of some of the officers was 
most remarkable — brown corduroy breeches, a 
khaki coat — and one big, rather red-faced man 
had a knitted polo-cap, green and yellow, on his 
head. 

The country looked still very desolate, and the 
work of repairing goes very slowly ; but there was 
a little more movement — some women in the 
fields, one with a plough and a donkey, trying to 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 189 

tiim up the grotind a little. Soldiers, of course, 
everywhere. Even the little country line from 
Ormoy to Mareuil is strictly guarded, particularly 
at all bridges and tunnels. I think they must be 
afraid of spies still, for no troops pass on that line. 

We found the house fairly comfortable. Mme. 
Gaillard had received our letters, and she and 
Lucie had worked hard to make the rooms habita- 
ble, collecting all the whole chairs and tables from 
all over the house. It was not oppressively hot, 
though there were fires in our rooms and the big 
stove in the hall was lighted — ^but as we cannot 
get any coal, of course we can have no great heat 
with the very small pieces of wood they send 
from the usine. 

We found quite a pile of shirts, drawers, and 
socks in the lingerie — really very well made; the 
socks much better than we expected. There were 
two or three pairs that were a little eccentric as 
to shape — heels a little wide — ^but I fancy our 
poor soldiers in their trenches, half full of water, 
won't be very particular as to shapes, so long as 
they have something warm to put on. 

We have very few Belgians in the village, 
though we are so near the frontier, and they are 
all very quiet and grateful for whatever is done 
for them. In Paris, we heard complaints. At 
one big Belgian ouvroir the refugees declined the 
clothes that were given to them, wanted to go to 
the vestiaire and choose for themselves. 



I90 MY WAR DIARY 

Sunday, February 14th, '15. 

It was lovely to-day — a bright sun. It was so 
cold in the church we had to change our seats, 
and even then could hardly stay. A large pane 
of glass is out in the window just over our pew, 
and there is no glass in the country, and no work- 
man to put it in if there was any. 

We took a long walk after breakfast through 
the big quarries on the La Ferte road, coming out 
on the Montigny hill. We had the fields to our- 
selves. Not a soul to be seen. The quarries are 
enormous, stretching far into the woods, and one 
can imderstand perfectly how strongly the Ger- 
mans are intrenched in the Soissons quarries, 
which we stupidly and thoughtlessly put at the 
disposal of a delightful German en civil (some 
people say it was General von Kluck), who set- 
tled some time in Soissons. He took a house 
there, made himself charming to all the inhabi- 
tants, rode all over the coimtry, and finally ob- 
tained permission to grow mushrooms in the 
quarries. Of coiurse, as one looks back now, our 
naivete seems colossal, to use the German's pet 
word. 

They have carried off many French women and 
children, who live with them in the quarries, cook 
for them, and go into Soissons to buy food, the 
Germans threatening them with terrible re- 
prisals if they don't come back, keeping their 
children as hostages. One of the difficult ques- 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 191 

tions after the war will be what to do with the 
German babies bom in the trenches. One Bel- 
gian priest said from the pulpit that they ought 
to be killed at once, or not allowed to be bom; 
but I suppose one can't resort to such drastic 
measures. They will be allowed to live probably, 
but sent to the "Assistance Publique," and then 
to the colonies. 

It was warm walking, and the sunset lovely. 
The cure came to dinner and told us more details 
of their wanderings, which seem already ancient 
history — events have gone so quickly since. He 
told us that for nights after their return to Ma- 
reuil, he couldn't sleep; all night he heard the 
trample of cattle and the roll of heavy cart wagons 
on the hard roads. He said the women were won- 
derful. Many of the farmers' wives led their 
caravan of women, children, and beasts. The 
village travelled for days alongside of one large, 
well-known farm. The fermiere led the proces- 
sion in a cabriolet with an old horse the Ger- 
mans didn't think worth taking; beside her an 
equally old contremaitre (overseer); oxen, cows, 
sheep, and geese directly behind. Then a train 
of farm-wagons filled with women and children. 
When they came to a carrefour (a square place 
where several roads meet), she made signs to her 
troupeau (flock) with a red parasol over the top 
of her cabriolet. They halted at night — all drawn 
up on one side of the road, and she and her contre- 



192 MY WAR DIARY 

maitre went off to see if they could find food or 
shelter in a hamlet or farm — happy if they could 
be taken in, in a bam or a wood-shed. My poor 
women slept two nights in a field under the hay- 
stacks. 

Monday, February isth. 

It was an awful morning, hail and frozen snow 
and an icy wind. We all shivered even with our 
coats on, and an expedition to La Ferte seemed 
impossible; but it cleared up bright and mild at 
12 o'clock, and we started directly after break- 
fast — always in Bourgeois's tapissiere — the only 
available vehicle. Charlotte, remembering her 
last experience, when she had to hang her hat on 
a nail on the side, had put on a soft felt with only 
a ribbon around the crown, and we all managed 
to get in and jolted along very uncomfortably. 
We met nothing on the road until we got to Ma- 
rolles. There we fell in with an army of auto- 
buses and big lorries, taking up the whole road 
and making it very difficult for us to pass. It was 
the service de ravitaillement. Their headquarters 
are at the Chateau de Boumeville and La Ferte. 
There were three hundred lorries at La Ferte. 
They radiate from there in all directions. The 
town was crowded with soldiers and officers. 

We didn't see the Abbe Detigne. He wasn't 
at home, and his sister didn't know where to look 
for him. We went to see one of our friends, Mr. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 193 

C, and rang a loud peal at the door-bell, not 
observing — as the door was wide open— that a 
notice was posted up: "Etat-Major.'* 

There were one or two soldiers in the court- 
yard, and two officers came running up to ask 
what we wanted. We explained that we wanted 
to pay a visit to Mr. C. They said he was not 
there, and that the staff were occupying his house 
— but wouldn't we come in and pay them a visit, 
and what could they do for us ? That we declined, 
but talked to them a little while, and asked them 
if there was any news. We met them again as 
we were talking to some of the lorry-drivers, who 
told us the lorries were all American, marvellously 
light and easily managed; turned so well in the 
narrow streets. They were evidently very curious 
to know who we were, suddenly appearing in La 
Ferte, where certainly no femmes du monde were 
to be seen in these days. One of them made 
friends with Frank, and carried him off to his 
rooms over the barber's, to get some chocolate. 
They brought out a box of Marquis chocolates 
and distributed it freely to us all, filling the boys* 
pockets. 

We had gouter at the Sauvage — ^very good 
chocolate, cafe au lait, bread and butter and jam, 
but none of the cakes for which the house was 
famous in the old days. The son of the house, 
who is an excellent pastry-cook, is at the front. 
Mme. Thomas was so pleased to see us, telling the 



194 MY WAR DIARY 

boys she remembered their father quite well when 
he was much smaller than they. She wouldn't 
let us pay anything, brought in the gouter herself, 
and sat at the table with us and talked. She just 
remembered '70, and seeing the Germans in La 
Ferte. However, she said they behaved well 
this time, paid for what they took, and did not 
molest the women and children. 

We went into all the shops, buying what we 
could, and hearing each one's experience during 
the German occupation. They really didn't 
suffer very much. They had time to hide money 
and valuables of every kind, as the British passed 
through twenty-four hours before the Germans, 
and told them they were coming. It was more 
the dread of what might happen. Some of the 
people left, and their houses were sacked, but 
nothing was done to those who remained. 

One of our friends left her cook in her house. 
The woman preferred staying. When the Ger- 
mans arrived, the officer in command sent for her, 
ordered all doors opened, and asked her where her 
mistress was; knew all about her, that she was 
a widow living alone with her servants. When 
the cook answered that she had gone away, he 
said she was wrong. "We don't hurt women and 
children." The cook replied indignantly: "Per- 
haps you don't hurt them, you kill them ! " Upon 
which she was told to hold her tongue and leave 
the room. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 195 

We left about 4.30. It was curious to hear 
such a racket of military life in the quiet little 
town — a continual rumbling of heavy munition 
and provision autos, small detachments of cavalry, 
every now and then a military auto filled with 
officers dashing full speed through the narrow 
street; men carrying large marmites of soup and 
baskets of bread, and girls standing at the doors, 
laughing and talking with the soldiers. I rather 
tremble for the morals of La Ferte with so many 
good-looking young soldiers about, but it is diffi- 
cult to do anything: "On ne peut rien refuser au 
soldat !" is the phrase on everybody's lips. 

We were decidedly exhausted when we got home, 
cramped and stiff from sitting so long on the hard, 
narrow seats of the tapissiere. The village was 
perfectly dark — only a light flashed for a moment 
on the bayonet of the guard at the bridge, who 
stopped us to see if we had our pass. 

Mardi Gras, February i6th. 
It has been a bright, beautiful day. One could 
hardly believe it after the cold rain and hail of 
yesterday. We walked about the garden in the 
morning — if garden it can be called. All the 
lawns and flower-beds have been dug up. The 
house stands in the middle of ploughed fields. 
We are debating what we shall plant — potatoes 
and beans, I think, so that we can have our vege- 
tables in winter, as well as improve the earth. 



196 MY WAR DIARY 

They say potatoes purify the soil, and perhaps 
next year, if the war is over, we can have new 
lawns, but we shan't do anything to the house 
and garden until the Germans are out of France 
— ^when ? 

After breakfast, we walked up the Montigny hill. 
The boys wanted to see what was left of a German 
aeroplane which had caught fire and burned on 
the hillside. The sun was really too hot on our 
backs. We had to take our coats off. As we 
were passing a field where a very old man, with 
a very old horse, was ploughing, he called out to 
us. We couldn't hear what he said, thought he 
wanted something, and told the boys to run across 
the field to see. They raced off as fast as they 
could, talked to him for a few moments, then 
dashed up the hill across the ploughed field. We 
saw them poking at something with their sticks; 
then they came galloping back with red cheeks 
and eyes shining with excitement, calling out to 
us: "Mother, Danny, come and see; there is a 
dead Boche up there; they have just tinned him 
up with the plough. We were silent for a mo- 
ment, declining their proposal to go and see; 
and then Charlotte said: *'Ah, think, boys, per- 
haps somewhere in Germany, far away, a mother 
and her two boys are walking along the road, 
just like us to-day, talking of the father whom 
they may never see again." The boys were not 
in the least moved — rather surprised. "Why, 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 197 

mother, it is only a Boche" — as if it were a rat. 
I suppose all the ugly sights they have seen, 
bridges and houses blown up, and the quantities 
of miserable, half-starved, half-clothed children, 
have hardened their childish hearts. I wonder if 
all this will have an effect upon the mentality of 
the young generation. Will they grow up hard 
and cruel? 

There are many Germans buried in the fields 
around us, quite close to the surface. Sometimes 
one sees a rustic cross made of sticks, sometimes 
a stick standing straight up, just to mark the 
spot. There will be thousands of those lonely 
soldier graves all over France. 

We found the wreck of the aeroplane on the 
top of the hill. There wasn't much left — some 
linen and bits of steel which the boys carried away 
as a souvenir. 

Souvenir makes me think of the British troops. 
They carried off a good many things, but I sup- 
pose all soldiers do. Their reasoning was simple, 
logical: ''Nous prenons souvenir; si prenons pas, 
AUemands prennent !" The Germans were about 
twenty -four hours behind them. 

It was lovely sitting on the hillside; the sun 
through the trees making little patterns of light 
on the white roads, and the beautiful valley of 
the Ourcq stretching away into the blue distance; 
it should have been a peaceful, happy scene, but 
the country is quite deserted; no passing, no 



198 MY WAR DIARY 

workers in the fields, nor children playing about 
while their mothers worked. A cloud of sadness 
hovers over everything, and we always hear the 
dull, steady growl of the cannon, which means 
mourning and anguish for so many of us. 

It seems centuries since I galloped over those 
hills with W., listening to his recollections of '70, 
and the first time he saw a Pickelhaube (German 
helmet) appearing in the twilight at the window 
of his library at Boumeville — a disagreeable mo- 
ment. 

We were rather tired after our scramble up the 
hill, and didn't have a very long evening. The 
fimioir is perfectly comfortable, heats easily, even 
with the modest wood-fires, but it looks bare and 
strange; no sign of habitation, nothing but the 
newspapers and our work. 

We always have socks and jerseys on hand. 

Ash Wednesday, February 17 th. 

We have had a cold, raw day, which we didn't 
expect after the beautiful summer yesterday. 
The night, too, was beautiful, bright starlight. I 
love a starlight night in the country; the stars 
always seem so much nearer than in town. 

It didn't rain, so we turned the boys loose in 
the garden, and made a depressing and exhaust- 
ing tour of the up-stairs rooms, missing something 
at every turn. The wardrobe where we keep our 
reserve of poor clothes, had been opened, and 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 199 

everything taken. We both of us feel so strongly 
that our house has been soiled, can never be the 
same to us again. I hope the feeling will pass. 
We have been so fond of our quiet country home 
- — ^have had so many happy hours there. Perhaps 
when the war is over and Francis comes home, it 
will be different. 

We decided to move the best furniture and 
trunks, boxes, etc., into two of the rooms and 
lock them. I don't think we shall have any 
more Germans. We are not on their way home; 
but perhaps British and French. One must be 
prepared for any surprises. 

The Abbe Detigne came to breakfast. It 
seemed almost the old times to see his little cart 
coming to the gate. He was, as usual, most in- 
teresting. He was amusing over a ''belle dame 
de la Croix Rouge," who came down to La Ferte 
to take charge of an ambulance established in the 
Ecole Matemelle. She looked very nice in her 
infirmiere dress, and gave a great many orders, 
and didn't find any of the arrangements satisfac- 
tory; but she wouldn't touch a wounded soldier, 
neither wash him nor dress his wounds, nor take 
off his rags — ^for clothes they could hardly be 
called — ^when the poor fellows were just out of 
the trenches, or had been lying for days on straw 
in a shed, waiting to be taken to a hospital. 
Whenever there was a badly wounded man or a 
fever patient, she wanted him sent to the H6tel- 



200 MY WAR DIARY 

Dieu, where the poor sisters had more than they 
could attend to; when the abbe and the mayor 
remonstrated the lady's husband appeared on the 
scene, saying: "Ma femme n'est pas habituee a 
retirer les chaussettes des pieds sales d'un soldat, 
ni de leur laver les pieds !" Then their patience 
gave out. They had the sick and wounded men 
wrapped up in blankets and carried them off to 
the Hotel-Dieu, where the sisters gave up their 
refectoire and lingerie — and then the authorities 
closed the hospital. 

We gave him some warm shirts and drawers, 
and said we would go and see them the next time^ 
he came down. 

The Croix Rouge has done, and is doing such 
splendid work that one is sorry such disagreeable 
incidents occur; but of course in all large societies 
there must be all kinds, and alongside of some of 
the volunteer nurses who have given their time 
and their strength, and sometimes their lives, 
there are women who only want the notoriety and 
right to wear the nurse's dress, which is becoming. 
The poor abbe was quite put out. 

While we were at breakfast they brought us 
the news that Mr. Profit, a young farmer of the 
village, was wounded; they said, ''grievement 
blesse.'* It will be a great loss if he is killed, as 
he is one of the best men in Mareuil, has had a 
very good education, and has travelled a little. 

I was quite surprised when he dined with us 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 201 

one night when the bishop of Beauvais was stay- 
ing with us, to hear how easily and intelligently 
he talked. They are a family of perfectly re- 
spectable, well-to-do farmers, who have big farms 
in this part of the country. I have often heard 
it said that the Profits could walk from Mareuil 
to Paris without going off of their own ground. 

We went to see Mme. Profit after the abbe 
went. She was very agitated, but brave and 
helpful, was going off at once. We went after- 
ward to see the miller's wife, also one of our friends. 
They had had Germans in their house, but they 
hadn't done much harm; drank up all the wine 
they could find (they had hidden their best), and 
carried off blankets and coverlids. 

Our ciu-e came to dinner, as we are leaving to- 
morrow morning early, and we spent all our 
evening making lists and prices of the work to 
be done. We had brought down several pieces 
of stuff which we left with Mme. Gaillard to be 
cut out and given to the women, also weighed 
the wool so that each woman might have the 
same amount for her stockings. 

We leave to-morrow morning at 9 o'clock, 
and by the Est, this time taking the military 
road, which will be very interesting as it was 
made to suit the convenience of the army, and 
passes recklessly, they tell us, through gardens, 
farmyards, and orchards. 



202 MY WAR DIARY 

Paris, Thursday, February i8th. 
We got back this morning from Mareuil, taking 
the miHtary line as far as Treport; it was made 
apparently with an absolute disregard of people's 
property, running through farmyards, orchards, 
gardens, sometimes close down to the river, some- 
times close under the windows of a small manoir. 
Soldiers still working on it, and keeping the 
rickety little wooden bridges in order. We went 
naturally very slowly — a light train. They say 
all military roads go straight from one point to 
another, and this one is certainly no exception 
to the rule. 

I found H. rather anxious as people had told 
her we could not get back for several days, for 
there was a great movement of troops and cannon 
on the Chemin de Fer de I'Est. We couldn't tele- 
graph her (the telegraph only works for the mili- 
tary authorities), and our letters arrived after us. 

Saturday, February 20th, '15. 
There is news this morning. Yesterday the 
allied fleets, French and British, appeared sud- 
denly in the Dardanelles and began shelling the 
Turkish forts. It was a great surprise to the 
general public. The move was so quietly made. 
I am afraid they have a difficult task before them; 
still, in the end, Constantinople must fall, and 
there will be one of the many difficult problems 
to solve when the war is over. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 203 

This is always a busy day at the ouvroir. The 
women bring back their work and ask for more. 
We had, too, a good many soldiers. 

We like it much better when the men come for 
their paquets. Then we are sure that they get 
them. So many people complain that the pack- 
ages they send never arrive at their destination. 

It is amusing to see Mrs. M., who is a tall, 
handsome woman, measuring the men across the 
chest, to see if the shirt and jerseys are broad 
enough. 

I went for a few minutes to the American rec- 
tory to see Mrs. Watson. I found her in her 
Belgian room at the ouvroir. It was piled high 
with cases and packages of every description. 
She is doing an immense amount of good, helping 
so many people. 

Tuesday, February 23rd. 

The days are all alike, but somehow or other 
the time passes. There is a lull in the fighting. 
Every one predicts fierce struggles with the ad- 
vance of spring and the mild weather. Until the 
Germans get out of France I can't feel quite happy. 
I don't see how they are ever to get them out of 
the trenches near Soissons. Report says the 
trenches will be blown up by the British. The 
French can't, as there are many of their women 
and children in them. 

Some one read aloud at the ouvroir to-day some 



204 MY WAR DIARY 

letters filled with German atrocities. I suppose 
some things are true, but they can't have com- 
mitted some of the horrors laid to their charge. 

I dined quietly with the Segurs, with our old 
friends the Savoyes. No one dresses; the men 
wear smoking or redingote, with black ties, the 
women high dresses. Segur had seen some one 
at the club — a diplomat — who had just come back 
from Berlin. He said the city was absolutely 
normal. Shops and theatres open; streets well 
lighted; plenty of people walking, almost cheer- 
ftil. He had a very good dinner at one of the 
good restaurants. There were several German 
officers in uniform dining. He thought they were 
attached to the War Office in Berlin. He didn't 
see any black bread, nor any want of white. Said 
the soldiers and people certainly had black bread, 
but that didn't mean anything, as the German 
peasant always eats black bread. 

Sunday, March 7th. 
It was cold and rainy this afternoon, a day to 
stay at home by the fire. We dined early, 7.30, 
so that Willy could come down and dine with 
his mother. Ever since his father said good-bye 
to him at Aulnay, when he was starting for the 
front, and told him he must be a big boy and 
take care of his mother, he has felt a great re- 
sponsibility. He misses his father awfully, like 
all of us; but we try to be brave, though the 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 205 

sight of the young men walking about with legs 
and arms amputated takes all my courage away. 
Yesterday I met Mme. de G., an aunt of Char- 
lotte's, in the rue La Beotie; so changed I almost 
passed her. Last year she was fresh, animated, 
interested in everything. She has grown thin 
and pale, with a wistful look in her eyes that 
rather haunts one. Her eldest son, an officer, 
is at the front ; her baby — ^just twenty years old, a 
simple soldier, is a prisoner in Germany. He has 
sent her three or four post-cards saying he is 
fairly well treated. But so many people say they 
don't dare tell the truth on open post-cards that 
she is not quite happy. While we were talking, 
a soldier, young — ^not more than twenty-two or 
twenty-three, with his leg amputated just above 
the knee — the empty trouser hanging loose — look- 
ing thin and pale — came along on his crutches — 
a woman with him. Everybody spoke to him: 
' 'Bon jour, mon ami ! " A little girl detached her- 
self from a group of children, ran across the street 
to shake hands with him, and gave him a bunch 
of violets, saying: ''Bon jour, Monsieur." He 
looked so pleased. It was a pretty sight. For a 
few moments there was nothing but the wounded 
soldier in the street. 

Monday, March 8th, '15, 
Rue de la Pompe. 

A horrid day, snow falling at intervals. I came 
up early to dinner. C. had a nice letter from 



2o6 MY WAR DIARY 

Francis. He had been for the first time in the 
trenches, found officers' quarters very comforta- 
ble, seats, tables, fire, books and papers. The 
soldiers' not quite so good, but very fairly com- 
fortable. He started back in the dark; said it 
was rather melancholy passing graves of some of 
the men of his own regiment. He met some 
officers in autos, who told him to be very careful 
crossing the bridge over the canal, as the Germans 
were watching it very closely, and sent shells at 
anything they saw crossing. He waited until 
one shell had fallen, then dashed over as hard as 
he could — a shell falling just behind him. It was 
a serious performance, but he seems to have grown 
accustomed to shells. 

He says the Colonel and all the officers beg for 
his books. We send him every week some illus- 
trated papers for his men. Hanotatix's pictorial 
history of the war {Histoire de la Guerre) ^ the 
Revue de Paris, which has very good war and 
foreign articles, and the Times, Walter W., who 
is quartered about ten miles further back, asks him 
for books — ^Walter being his cousin, Walter Wad- 
dington, who is Lieutenant-Colonel of a regiment 
of cuirassiers. 

Sunday, March 21st. 
We had an agitated night — our first experience 
of Zeppelins. For some days the police have 
been very strict about lights, not only in the 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 207 

streets, but in the houses. If the slightest gleam 
escapes through barred shutters and closely drawn 
curtains, they come up at once and protest vigor- 
ously. 

I was sleeping quietly, didn't hear the avertisse- 
ment (pompiers, rattling through the street, not 
ours but the rue Frangois I^'^ at the comer, sotuid- 
ing the alarm, "garde a vous, " which we all know 
too well now), and was astonished when the maids 
appeared in my room much excited. The little 
one who sleeps au sixieme, had been waked up 
by the appel and the noise in the street^ — our 
concierge ordering all lights out. She saw the 
Zeppelins quite distinctly from her window, pass- 
ing over the barriere de I'Etoile, and heard the 
cannon and mitrailleuses from the Eiffel Tower. 
However, by the time she got down-stairs the 
danger was over. The street and house were 
quiet, and she returned to the sixth floor. I put 
on a warm cloak and stood on the balcony a little 
while, but saw nothing; the street was perfectly 
quiet and dark, except when the search-light threw 
a long yellow ray. 

About an hour later there was another alarm, 
but it was not serious, though the pompiers with 
their "garde a vous" rattled imder our windows 
this time. 

It was too much for the poor little maid; she 
rushed down-stairs quite luinerved and frightened, 
and slept in the lingerie all night. Almost all the 



2o8 MY WAR DIARY 

locat aires of the 5^^"^^ spent the night in the con- 
cierge's lodge. 

Before 9 o'clock this morning Charlotte arrived, 
quite white and trembling. They had been waked 
out of a sound sleep by the noise : First the bombs 
— one fell in the avenue Malakoff , near the rue de 
la Pompe — and then the firing from the Tour 
Eiffel, and the few French aeroplanes that were 
flying. The children and maids were terrified, 
so they all went down to the concierge's lodge, 
getting quickly into whatever clothes they could 
find, groping about in the dark, and spent the 
rest of the night there. Various other locataires 
did the same, the concierge making occasional ex- 
cursions into the street, which was black as ink, 
to see if anything more was happening. 

Evidently there was much more disturbance in 
their part of the town. They are so close to the 
Tour Eiffel. Charlotte felt rather better when 
she had had a glass of Marsala, and talked it all 
over with us; and she went back to the house to 
bring the boys here to breakfast. They looked a 
little pale when they arrived, but were much ex- 
cited, having been waked out of their sound sleep 
by the noise and the autos, and then being hur- 
ried into their clothes and passing the night sit- 
ting up in the lodge. Poor little things, they have 
had various experiences since their hurried flight 
from Mareuil at the beginning of the war. They 
will never forget "war-times." All they do and 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 209 

all they don't do is subservient to the one absorb- 
ing idea: "War." 

We had quite a number of visits at tea-time, all 
of course full of the alarm. The T.'s, sleeping 
peacefully in their rooms on the court of their 
hotel, heard nothing, and read the news in the 
papers this morning. In almost all the hotels 
people were waked up and told to come down- 
stairs. They say the assemblage at the Ritz 
was wonderful, though most of the women had 
made themselves presentable with long cloaks 
and fichus tied over their heads, but some had 
been too frightened; had only one idea, to get 
down-stairs, and nature stood revealed most un- 
becomingly. 

March 22nd, '15, 
Rue de la Pompe. 

We had a second Zeppelin alarm last night 

about 9 o'clock. We had just finished dinner, all 

lights were ordered out, and the pompiers dashed 

through the street sounding their "garde a vous." 

The shrill, strident notes set every nerve on edge. 

There wasn't a sound to be heard ; no cannon nor 

noise of falling bombs. We sat by the window, 

making occasional excursions to the balcony, but 

there was nothing to be seen. No one in the 

street; a few men standing at the doors of the 

houses ; one just saw them like shadows when the 

search-lights played around. 



2IO MY WAR DIARY 

A little before 12 the pompiers passed again 
more slowly, playing *' danger over,'* and calling 
out: ** Danger over; you can light/' They were 
cheered all along the streets. Willy called from 
the window: "Sont-ils partis, les sales Boches?" 
* ' Oui,"mon petit, oui. Vous pouvez vous coucher. ' ' 

There was another alarm after we had got to 
bed, about 12 o'clock, but it didn't amoimt to 
anything. Still these are agitated nights. 

Wednesday, March 24th. 
I was at the ouvroir all the afternoon. Mme. 
M. had seen the Zeppelin quite distinctly. It 
passed over the house ; she said it looked extraor- 
dinary, all lighted, brilliant shells bursting around 
it in all directions from the mitrailleuses and 
French aeroplanes. 

Tuesday, March 30th. 

The Duchesse de Bassano and Lady Lee came 
in late this afternoon. They were just back from 
Versailles, where they had been to the British 
Red Cross Hospital at the H6tel du Trianon. 
They say it is wonderfully installed, so clean and 
spacious, and under strict military discipline. 
The Duchesse took flowers and tobacco and pictiu"e 
papers to the soldiers, and said they were very 
pleased — ^just like children — ^particularly with the 
flowers. 

Lady Lee occupies herself very much with the 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 211 

hospitals, not nursing, but seeing that they have 
all they want, and writing letters for the sol- 
diers. 

Versailles is quite changed with so many British 
about — officers in khaki, sometimes with their 
wives and children; British Red Cross nurses and 
automobiles. The two little tea-shops are doing 
a thriving business. We went into one the other 
day and might have thought ourselves in London : 
British at every table, all having tea and muffins. 
Our boys are always taken for English, as they 
are fair and speak English with their English 
nurse — ^which makes them most indignant. **We 
are French boys; father is a French soldier!" 

Good Friday, April 2nd, '15. 
The churches were crowded yesterday and 
to-day; a great many women in mourning, a 
great many wounded soldiers. At one of the 
churches, in a little chapel where the Christ was 
exposed with an abundance of flowers and can- 
dles, a young soldier, not more than twenty-two 
years old, with one leg off, looking very white and 
weak, came in, but couldn't get a seat. He stood 
for a few minutes leaning on his crutches. A 
child got up, ran over to him, saying: **Viens, mon 
ami, mets-toi la a c6te de Maman." He de- 
murred, but the lady made a sign to him to come. 
He took the seat, and the little girl knelt along- 
side of him on the stone pavement. 



212 MY WAR DIARY 

Easter Sunday, April 4th. 

I went to the American church. C. and the 
boys came to breakfast. We had coloured eggs 
for them, and they had already had a fine collec- 
tion at their own house — useful gifts from Bonne 
Maman and Danny: camets, pencils, gloves, 
etc., and a big chocolate bell from Lady Plunkett. 
She is here with Nellie, staying with Norah G., 
and nursing at the British Red Cross Hospital at 
the Hotel Astoria. I fancy she is an excellent 
nurse. She has had capital training at Lausanne, 
at one of the great hospitals there; and besides, 
has a real vocation, is thoroughly interested in all 
medical work. 

Friday, April 9th. 

The week has been very quiet, everybody fol- 
lowing the action of the fleets in the Dardanelles. 
Things have not gone as quickly and easily as 
one expected. Before Easter, Mr. de P. told us 
they were betting at the clubs that Constantinople 
woiild fall for Easter, He wasn't quite so san- 
guine, thought it might perhaps fall by the 
Simday after, but thinks he will lose his bet. 

It is astonishing how the time slips away when 
one does the same thing every day. The com- 
muniques don't tell us much about the war, nor 
private letters either. Francis writes fairly often, 
but except when he has a night in the trenches or 
a reconnaissance with the General, or some of 
his officer friends, there is not much to tell. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 213 

Walter Waddington is about ten kilometres 
from Francis' cantonnement. He and his offi- 
cers are very comfortably lodged in a small 
chateau, and Francis goes over to lunch and dine 
with him sometimes. The other day he took 
over one of the sergeants of his regiment — a singer 
from the Opera-Comique, who has a charming 
voice, and sings very well. There was quite a 
good piano at the chateau, and they made music 
all the evening, Francis accompanying his friend. 
Then Francis played the national airs and our 
famous march of ''Sambre et Meuse," winding up 
with *'It's a long, long way to Tipperary," all the 
officers joining in the chorus. 

When Francis and his friend were starting back 
the cannon was going again, hard, and shells were 
whistling through the air. The men told Francis 
to be very careful at a certain bridge, which the 
enemy always aims at. They don't seem to 
mind the shells more than tennis-balls, yet men 
are killed around them every day. 

I am going out to Mrs. Depew's to-morrow. 

April loth, '15, 
Chateau d'Annel. 

We had a lovely afternoon yesterday; leaving 

the Hotel Crillon at 4 and getting here about 

6.30. The road, as usual, was deserted. We 

met no private conveyances of any kind, merely 

military autos, which go an awful pace, particu- 



214 MY WAR DIARY 

larly the British ones — and occasional convoys of 
munition-wagons or food — the fields empty, no 
ploughing nor work of any kind going on, women 
and children standing at the doors of their cot- 
tages. 

We passed through Senlis, which is tragic. In 
the one long street, all the houses in ruins — ^roofs 
off, windows out, walls fallen, heaps of stones and 
charred beams everywhere. It quite reminded 
me of Pompeii ; and over all this black ruin, the 
beautiful blue summer sky, and the great stillness 
of the country. We were stopped several times, 
but only for a moment, as the car with its English 
chauffeur dressed in khaki, is well known on the 
road. Then we got to the bridge of Compiegne, 
where we were stopped again. There were a 
great many people much excited, pointing to the 
sky, where I saw nothing, but the others did. It 
was a French aeroplane being fired upon by Ger- 
man shells. Mrs. D. saw the aeroplane quite dis- 
tinctly, as well as the little puffs of smoke looking 
like white clouds, made by the German shells. 
The officer at the bridge told us we could go on; 
there was no danger, as the aeroplane was some 
distance ahead, and we were behind the firing- 
line. 

It is ctirious how in war-times everything seems 
natural, even to taking an afternoon's turn in the 
coimtry with shells flying over your head. 

In one of the small villages we passed through, 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 215 

close to Annel, a regiment of Spahis was quartered. 
They looked most picturesque with their bright 
red cloaks and white turbans; were tall, dark, 
handsome men. I suppose they are not allowed 
to fight in that costume ; they would make a fine 
target for the enemy, even for the old gentlemen 
of the Landsturm, who don't seem very efficient 
with a rifle. 

Our evening was pleasant. The hospital staff 
— about eight men, doctors, gentlemen chauffeurs, 
etc., dined with us. All were in khaki. We heard 
the cannon quite distinctly until 9.30, and went 
out on the terrace to see if we could distinguish 
any rockets, but all was quite dark. 

As soon as the lights are lit in the chateau, 
heavy black curtains are lowered over all the win- 
dows, which give a ghastly impression in the 
house, as not a gleam of light must be visible. 
They are too near the front, only ten miles from 
the German trenches. 

It all seems very comfortably arranged. The 
family lives in one wing, quite apart from the 
hospital. Mrs. Depew will take me over the 
wards to-morrow. 

It is lovely this morning; I shall go for a stroll 
in the park, and at 1 1 o'clock there is mass in the 
small convalescent ward. 

II o'clock. 

We have had a most interesting day. I had a 
nice walk with Mr. D., who showed me the grave- 



2i6 MY WAR DIARY 

yard in the park, at some little distance from the 
chateau, where the soldiers who have died in the 
hospital are buried, imtil the end of the war, when 
their families can come and claim their bodies. 
It is very well arranged. There are about thirty 
graves, a simple wooden cross at the head of each, 
flowers on the graves, and a little hedge of box 
around the enclosure. 

We went in at ii to the mass. It was held in 
the old music-room, now turned into a conva- 
lescent ward. There were eight beds ; most of the 
men propped up on pillows, and several nurses 
and doctors in their white uniform. Mrs. D., in 
her nurse's dress, played the organ. Francis the 
violoncello. It was an impressive scene; and at 
the end the aum6nier, with his vetement over his 
uniform, finished with the prayer that we hear in 
all the churches now: ''Prions pour nos soldats 
au front, pour nos blesses ici, pour tous nos morts 
dans toute la France; et que Dieu donne aux 
meres et aux femmes le courage d' accepter avec 
resignation les sacrifices que le pays leur demande." 
And all to the sound of the cannon, which had 
been growling again since lo o'clock. 

After limch I went into the big ward with Mrs. 
Depew. The men looked most comfortable and 
well cared for. The room is large and bright (the 
old ballroom), on the ground floor, doors and 
windows opening on the fine old courtyard, and a 
flood of sunlight streaming in. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 217 

Then we went for a turn in the motor to a village 
some little distance off, nearer the front. We went 
up to the top story of the doctor's house, from 
where we had a fine view of the plain and our 
trenches and barbed- wire entanglements. We saw 
very far beyond the line of our trenches, a long 
stretch of plain; then a wood, and behind that, 
the German trenches. 

When we got back to the chateau, all the pa- 
tients were out in the courtyard, in the sun, their 
beds wheeled out. Various French officers came 
in to tea, and it was a real pleasure to see the 
pantalon rouge and light-blue ttmic of the chas- 
seurs, after all the khaki, which is, of course, more 
serviceable in campaign than the bright colors, 
but it doesn't look military. Everybody wears 
it: chauffeurs, orderlies at hospitals, etc. 

They are giving all our men other imiforms, a 
sort of blue-grey, for the front, but the men hate 
it; they love their red trousers. 

I saw for the first time that afternoon, painted 
horses. All the horses of the Chasseurs d'Afrique 
are small grey horses, which, of course, made them 
a fine mark for the enemy. One orderly, who came 
with his officer, was riding a pink horse, which, 
they said, with time and exposure in all weathers 
would turn a bai rouge. Another had a bright 
yellow one, which would become alezan (chestnut) 
by the same process. They looked funny in the 
present stage, with the men's red trousers. 



2i8 MY WAR DIARY 

We had a pleasant dinner; made a little music 
in the evening, singing ''Tipperary," which is a 
good marching time, and another regular silly, 
catchy English song: ''Susie's sewing socks for 
soldiers." I am leaving to-morrow morning. 

Paris, Wednesday, April 14th. 
The days pass quietly. We don't hear much 
news. All interest now is centred in the Darda- 
nelles. Every one seems to think that Russia will 
be most exacting when settling-day comes, and 
she will, of course, want Constantinople; but I 
don't think Great Britain would mind that now 
with the Suez Canal and the firm footing she has 
in Egypt. 

Saturday, April 24tli. 
We had a procession of soldiers at the ouvroir 
to-day, coming out of the hospital with four or 
five days' leave before joining their regiments. 
Most of them were men from the pays occupes, 
with no friends in Paris and no money — the fr. 
1.25 they got from the Government being quite 
insufficient to give them food and lodging. There 
must be houses or shelter of some kind for them, 
but we don't know where. One poor fellow had 
had no word from wife or children since September. 
He was a small farmer from near Laon ; had had 
no time for preparations of any kind. He was 
on the first roll-call. The order for mobilisation 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 219 

came on Saturday afternoon, August ist, at 4 
o'clock. He was at the market in a little town 
not far from his farm; had just time to get back, 
kiss his wife and children, and take the first train 
at 9 o'clock that evening. Had heard nothing of 
any of his belongings. There are hundreds in the 
same plight, yet they don't complain. 

Tuesday, April 27th. 
Antoinette, Charlotte, and A. H. lunched with 
us to-day. Antoinette was interesting, telling all 
the work she had done at Dinar d. She is quite 
miserable about her German companion, Fraulein 
Pauline, whom we all know, and who had been 
with her for years (twenty, I think). The poor 
thing had never been back to Germany, had no 
relations there — a sister married here to a French- 
man, and two nephews in the French army. An- 
toinette kept her as long as she could, but it 
wasn't possible to go on any longer. The people 
in the village — even the servants in the place, 
who had known her for years — she had nursed 
them when they were ill, and taken care of their 
children — got excited. After all, she was a Ger- 
man, probably a spy. At last the mayor and cure 
told Antoinette she must go; they couldn't protect 
her if some sudden fury seized the people — a 
piece of bad news, a reverse of the French; some 
new German atrocity might happen at any mo- 
ment, and they couldn't hold the people. So 



220 MY WAR DIARY 

most tearfully and reluctantly the poor woman 
started for Germany. 

We talked a little of old days in Rome, so long 
ago. Will Italy move ? I doubt it. 

Friday, April 30th. 

We had a nice letter from Francis this morning. 
He had made an interesting expedition with his 
General to the trenches to choose where a new 
line was to be made. They went in motors to the 
entrance of a long tunnel leading into the trench, 
stayed there a little, talking to the soldiers, who, 
he said, looked most comfortable — ^had made 
themselves chairs and tables out of old boxes and 
planks — ^had lamps. Then their party — about 
eight or ten men, left their shelter and came out 
on the plain. They were told to throw away their 
cigars, not stay too close together, also to talk 
as little and as low as possible. 

He said it was a curious situation ; the night 
quite dark, very still, except for the shells which 
came screaming through the air, and every now 
and then a great roar from the big guns. They 
walked about for an hour, choosing the ground for 
the new line of trenches and dodging the shells 
which generally flew over their heads and fell at 
some little distance off. They heard the Germans 
distinctly, talking in their trenches; spoke very 
little and very low themselves. 

He fretted so at O. all summer, seeing nothing 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 221 

of the fighting and never hearing the cannon. 
He hears it enough now. 

Tuesday, May 4th, '15. 

We had a little concert to-day, at the Swedish 
church for the benefit of the hospital and ouvroir 
which Comtesse G., wife of the Swedish Minister to 
France, organised as soon as she got back from 
Bordeaux. The church was very prettily deco- 
rated with plants and flowers, and very full. All 
the Swedish colony of course, which is quite large. 
Mme. Delcasse, wife of the Minister of Foreign 
Affairs, Mme. M., wife of the Minister of War, 
and a good many of Comtesse G.'s personal friends. 
All the soldiers who were well enough were seated 
on benches close to the chancel. Some of them 
looked very young, mere boys. The music was 
very good. Two Swedish singers with that high, 
clear northern voice — so unlike the rich, full Span- 
ish and Italian voices — sang very well. 

After the concert was over we went into the 
hospital, which is very well arranged, in a large 
high room on the grotind floor, very light and 
airy. The beds were partitioned off with screens, 
making nice little rooms. The men looked very 
smiling and comfortable; they were all convales- 
cents, no grands blesses. All the ladies had 
brought picture papers, tobacco, and chocolate. 



222 MY WAR DIARY 

Wednesday, May 5 th. 

I lunched to-day with a country neighbour, Con- 
seiller General of the Oise. He has a charming 
chateau, just touching the Villers-Cotterets for- 
est. It has been occupied ever since the month 
of September, 19 14; first Germans, now French; 
and the French I think have done and are doing 
more harm than the Germans ! — ^horses and heavy 
camions all over his park; walls knocked down, 
the men finding the big gates too narrow to allow 
six or eight horses to pass abreast — and the inside 
in an awful condition. He was most unfortunate 
in the regiments that fell to his share. 

In some of the chateaux the French soldiers 
mended the furniture and took care of the gardens. 

Among other people we had at breakfast Mr. 
P., Chef de Cabinet of the Minister of War, at 
this moment I should think the most overworked 
man in France. I was quite ashamed to ask him 
for anything, but I did. Francis wants to go as 
interpreter on the staff of one of the British gen- 
erals. He says he feels he could be very useful, 
as he knows English, of course, as well as French, 
and is accustomed to English ways and life. Some 
of the interpreters on both sides have been utter 
failures. They say the Englishman who knows 
a little French gets on better than the Frenchman 
who knows a little English. The Frenchman is 
accustomed to hearing his native tongue badly 
spoken, and understands more quickly; the Eng- 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 223 

lishman on the contrary is slow to understand; 
must have very precise orders. 

The breakfast was quite a war breakfast, 
served by a parlour-maid and a soldier in uniform, 
with his arm in a sling. He was our host's valet 
de chambre, had been wounded, and was finishing 
his period of convalescence in his master's ser- 
vice. 

The general talk at table was interesting; very 
little criticism on what either Government or 
Army was doing, and an absolute certainty of 
ultimate victory — "qui nous coutera cher; toute 
notre jeunesse y restera!" That is the tragic 
side of this awful war. 

When we see a regiment starting for the front, 
all the young faces so flushed and smiling and 
eager for the fray, we think of the hundreds who 
will never come back, and of whom their families 
will never know anything — merely ** missing," in 
the long lists of casualties. 

Thursday, May 6th. 
Mrs. W. came to breakfast, and we went after- 
ward to the Japanese hospital, installed at the 
Hotel Astoria. It looked perfectly well ordered 
and beautifully clean. We asked for the Direc- 
trice, Mme. de L., whom we know, and she took 
us over the hospital. The pharmacie was quite 
wonderful- — so neat and orderly; all the bottles 
and packages wrapped up in soft white paper, and 



224 ^Y WA^ DIARY 

the curious Japanese signs or letters that one 
sees on all their packages of tea. Mme. L. in- 
troduced the head of the pharmacie to us. He 
knew very little French, but English well; would 
be so pleased if we would talk to him. Accord- 
ingly we had one of those halting, one-sided, im- 
possible conversations one has sometimes with 
people who know a little (very little in this case) 
of a language. I imderstood very little of what 
he said to me, and, judging from his answers, he 
absolutely nothing of what I said to him. 

We saw several of the nurses all in white, with 
a curious high square cap. They are a funny 
collection of little yellow women, very polite and 
smiling and curtseying. I can't imagine that our 
soldiers like to be nursed by such ugly little yellow 
creatures, even though they dress the wounds 
most skilfully. They say their touch is very light, 
and they work much more quickly than our 
nurses. All the same I should think the men 
would prefer a nice white payse, even if she was 
a little rough. 

I didn't go into the operating-rooms, but Mrs. 
M. did. She said they were splendid, at the 
top of the house, large and airy, with every mod- 
ern scientific invention. There were several ladies, 
nurses, in the wards and corridors — French and 
Americans. I don't know exactly what they do, 
as the Japanese nurses do all the dressings — don't 
allow any foreigners to touch the patients. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 225 

Saturday, May 8th. 
There is awful news this morning: the S.S. 
Lusitania torpedoed and sunk by the Germans 
off the Irish coast. I didn't think even they 
would have dared to do such an awful thing. 
The first account says only six hundred people 
saved ; the boat went down in twelve minutes. I 
should think this would rouse England and Amer- 
ica. Still, the Americans were warned ; they came 
at their own risk; a certain number of passages 
were cancelled. 

Friday, May 14, ^15. 
Nobody talks of anything but the Lusitania, 
and wonders what America will do. There was 
an animated discussion at the ouvroir this after- 
noon between Col. B. — a wounded French officer 
still on his crutches — and Mr. H. W., a clever 
Englishman with French relations, married to a 
Frenchwoman. I think in his heart, though he 
wouldn't own it, the Englishman thought the 
Frenchman was right: **that Britain should have 
protected her ship, not braved the Germans." 
Of course she never thought, nor did any one else, 
that Germany, even Germany, would do such a 
cowardly act. However, she has set the whole 
civilised world against her now. Many of the 
Americans here, particularly the women, hope 
that America will fight. I hope she won't. 



226 MY WAR DIARY 

Sunday, May i6th. 

I went to the English church. The rector 
didn't officiate, and the clergyman who took his 
place asked the prayers of the congregation for 
the rector and his family. Their eldest son, a 
soldier, is reported "missing" since Tuesday. I 
went to the rectory directly after the service, 
and the servant told me it was true — a boy only 
eighteen, as she said. "He was a child last year, 
Madame, when he came home for his holidays 
and asked me for cakes." I remember all the 
boys perfectly; didn't think any were old enough 
to be soldiers. 

We had a good many people at tea-time, 
among others. Professor Hall of Harvard with his 
wife and daughter — clever, sympathetic people, 
all much interested in France and the terrible 
struggle she is going through. He sent me a gen- 
erous contribution to my ouvroir. I so rarely 
see American men of that type that it was a great 
pleastire to me to hear an impartial opinion from 
the outside world. 

Saturday, May 22nd, '15. 
I dined this evening with the Segurs. Quite 
like old times, with all the nieces and nephews, 
M.'s and H.'s. Young Merode is at the Minis- 
t^re de la Guerre (was in imiform, the new colour, 
"bleu horizon," which they say is very good, 
blends perfectly with sky and trees). He knows 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 227 

German well, translates the letters found on pris- 
oners or dead. M. says they are not very inter- 
esting, the wives in Germany finding the war very 
long, the cost of living very high; not much en- 
thusiasm. 

Sunday, May 23rd. 
We had a few people at tea-time; Bessie much 
excited over Italy's moving. She will have three 
grandsons and two nephews in the war : five Rus- 
polis ! The Duchesse de Bassano, Stuers (Dutch 
Minister), and the Gyldenstopes dined. We all 
talked war, of course. They were hard on Biilow 
and his fiasco in Rome — ^but it really was an un- 
grateful mission. He was beaten even before he 
began to negotiate. There was a splendid patri- 
otic demonstration in the Roman Chamber yes- 
terday. 

Monday, 24th May. 

Italy has declared war upon Austria only (not 
on Germany). People are afraid for Venice; 
think Austrian aeroplanes will throw bombs on 
St. Mark. It would be too awful. 

We had rather a disagreeable communication 
from Mareuil this morning, saying our house had 
been requisitioned by the military authorities, 
and the officer in command of the group of auto- 
mobilistes had asked for seven rooms and the use 
of the kitchen and dining-room. It is a great bore 



228 MY WAR DIARY 

as we want to go down ourselves for a week or 
ten days; but we can't refuse in war times, with 
the whole country under martial law. We talked 
it over with C, who had come in from Versailles 
for Comtesse Foy's fimeral — and gave Mme. G. 
her instructions. She could give six rooms in the 
new house, and the use of the kitchen. I reserved 
the dining-room and old house until we were able 
to come down and see what arrangements we 
could make. 

Thursday, May 27tli. 

Went out to the American Ambulance this 
afternoon. There were a great many people 
there, as it was visiting-day. All the doors and 
windows were open, the convalescents sitting 
out on the terrace and perrons; almost all had 
friends and presents — flowers, cigarettes, illus- 
trated papers. 

Therese de Segur is at the head of one of the 
great Paris hospitals; was delighted, thought 
everything from wards to kitchen was so splen- 
didly clean and airy. 

We stopped at Charlotte's ouvroir on our way 
down, and she was much interested in all the 
garments the ladies were making. There are two 
sewing-machines, a cutting-out table, and they 
really get through a great deal of work. It is 
quite different from our ouvroir, where we don't 
work ourselves, merely give work to women, and 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 229 

see the soldiers who come and ask for clothes — 
always shirts; and a great many, even in this 
warm weather, still prefer woollen socks to cotton 
ones. 

Friday, May 28th. 

I went up to rue de la Pompe to see the con- 
tents of a box just received from the Clearing- 
House. All good things. We had a quiet after- 
noon at the ouvroir, but one or two blind soldiers, 
so sad — one quite young man, a tall, broad- 
shouldered, good-looking fellow, led in by a com- 
rade. I talked to him a little, asking him what 
he wanted. He said to me: "Je ne puis pas vous 
voir, Madame. Etes-vous jeune, ou mere de 
famille?" "Non, mon ami, je ne suis pas jeime; 
je suis mere de famille — ^meme grand'mere, et j'ai 
un fils au front, comme vous." "Que Dieu vous 
le garde, Madame; je ne verrai jamais plus les 
miens. " But not a word of complaint. I couldn't 
make any phrases to him of losing his sight in a 
glorious cause — a young, strong man, not thirty 
years old, in total darkness for the rest of his life ! 
I put my hand on his sleeve, saying: "Mon pauvre 
ami!" — and then the poor fellow broke down 
and cried, and I beat a hasty retreat, feeling a 
choke in my throat. Of course the Government 
will look after them, and they will all be taught 
trades, but it is pitiful to see them. 

It seems there was a group of wounded and one 



230 MY WAR DIARY 

blind man on the terrace of one of the hospitals 
one day, all rejoicing in the bright sunlight that 
gave a touch of warm light to everything; the 
Seine, the hills in the distance, and pointing out 
to each other the fortifications and trenches of 
the camp retrenche. The blind man stood apart, 
looking sad and lonely. A young nurse went up 
to him, took his arm and led him into a comer 
where he could feel the sun, and holding his 
fingers, pointed out the various points the men 
were talking about. By degrees, all the other 
men joined them, explaining and talking to the 
blind soldier, who was quite excited, as the nurse 
moved his hand backward and forward, and al- 
most seemed to see the various points; forgot for 
a while his misfortune and fought his battle over 
again with his comrades. 

It seems that some of them were so miserable 
when they realised their sight was gone that they 
did not tell them at once, waited until they were 
strong enough to bear the blow; let them think 
it was a temporary deprivation of sight. 

Mareuil, Thursday, June 3rd. 
We came down yesterday. For the last week 
we have been getting letters from the cure, from 
Mme. Gaillard, telling us the house was always 
full of French soldiers, who behaved very badly; 
the officer, ordering all the rooms opened, estab- 
lished himself in my bedroom, and wished to put 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 231 

his orderly in one of the good chambres d'ami next 
to him. They wanted extra blankets and lamps, 
and Mme. G. to do their cooking. At last the 
poor woman came up to Paris, saying she couldn't 
take such a responsibility and face the situation 
alone. Her son has just been mobilise. She is 
alone with one young maid in the house. That 
morning's mail had brought me a letter from an 
officer, saying my servants were very impolite, 
etc., so we thought we had better go down. 

I wrote to the officer and the mayor, saying 
what rooms I would give and, above all, what 
rooms I wouldn't; and agreed to go down as 
soon as I could. I also gave Mme. G. a letter 
that she could show to the officer, telling her what 
rooms to give, and that we were coming down as 
soon as I could get away from my work in Paris 
— and here we are. 

We took the 5.30 train in the afternoon and got 
down a little before 8. Though we are no longer 
in the military zone, we still had soldiers at the 
station, and had to show our sauf -conduits. Our 
first surprise was seeing Mme G. at the station 
with a rather smart-looking ordonnance and her 
wheelbarrow — the well-known wheelbarrow which 
we always use for carrying the small parcels back- 
ward and forward. 

The courtyard of the station was full of big 
American lorries and autobuses. It seems the 
Corps de Ravitaillement is stationed here, and 



232 MY WAR DIARY 

our militaires are the gentlemen chauffeurs of the 
autos. We walked to the house, rather wonder- 
ing what we should find, and were met just inside 
the gate by a young officer in uniform, who intro- 
duced himself as Lieutenant D. (the gentleman 
with whom I had corresponded). He asked me 
if he could do anything for us. He had wanted 
to send his automobile to the station, but Mme. G. 
told him we always walked, but that his ordon- 
nance had gone. He thanked us for our hos- 
pitality; said he and his comrades would give us 
as little trouble as possible, and retired by the 
garden entrance. It was too dark to see his face, 
but he had a gentleman's voice and manner. All 
the same, it seemed funny to be welcomed in our 
own courtyard by a perfect stranger, and to see 
the garage and kitchen lighted, and silhouettes of 
soldiers everywhere. 

We went into the house to see what arrange- 
ments we could make. The table was laid for us 
in the dining-room, and Mme. G. told us the 
gentlemen hoped we would allow them to send us 
some filet de boeuf and asperges for our dinner, 
also a bottle of good wine. I wanted some soap 
and went into the office to see if my bag was 
there — a very good-looking yoimg soldier, tall, 
fair, rather like an Englishman, was standing 
there, lighting a lamp. He came forward, intro- 
ducing himself; had a very good, easy manner. 
What could he do for me? Would I allow him 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 233 

to send me some soap ? I said I had plenty, was 
looking for my bag. He went to see if it was in 
the hall, and through the half-open door I saw 
several soldiers in the kitchen, and there seemed 
to be about seven or eight dining in the small 
courtyard, just outside the office. 

We made. the best arrangements we could for 
the night, and when we went down to dinner 
found the boys in a wild state of delight. They 
had made acquaintance with all the seven soldiers 
who were dining. My eldest grandson, aged ten, 
said: *'They were all very polite, Danny, got up 
when we came into the court, and Mme. Gaillard 
told them we were 'les jeunes maitres de maison,' 
and the Lieutenant introduced all of them to us.'* 

After dinner Charlotte and I went out to speak 
to them. They are a nice-looking set of young 
fellows. We asked them all to dine with us to- 
morrow. We are comfortable in the old house. 
I sleep in the nursery, which is my old room, and 
is still full of the boys' toys and books. The 
Germans didn't take anything from there, except 
one charming little statue of the Virgin which 
Charlotte had had all her life. It is certainly 
many years since I have slept with a hoop over 
my head, but it seems solidly hung. I hope it 
won't come down in the night. The boys will 
sleep to-night on their mattress on the floor, in 
Charlotte's boudoir. She is in her own room. 
To-morrow we will settle ourselves better. 



234 MY WAR DIARY 

The house is very still; we don't hear a sound; 
would never imagine it was full of men. 

It has been a lovely warm day. It was delicious 
to be waked up in the morning by the smell of 
roses climbing into the windows. The roses are 
lovely — quantities of them, and all the trees and 
bushes grown enormously — ^but the lawns, planted 
with potatoes, beans, and peas, look too awful; 
but there was nothing else to do. They had been 
so cut up and trampled upon with horses picketed 
on them, that the only hope of ever having decent 
lawns again was to dig them all up and plant 
potatoes. 

By 7 o'clock the boys were in the garden, 
playing about with some of the young men. 
They sent us their chauffeur to help move some 
of otu heavy furniture. We shall settle ourselves 
for the present in the old house, as we shall 
always be liable to have French troops or British, 
so long as the war lasts. 

We have put up a curtain at the end of the 
corridor, in the wing, so we are quite shut off, 
and none of the men ever come up the big stair- 
case or into our part. The Lieutenant uses 
Francis' fumoir as his bureau, and they take all 
their meals outside on the children's lawn or play- 
ground, the only one which has not been cut up, 
under the big pear-tree. 

It is beautiful weather. If it rained, of course 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 235 

they would have to come inside. I suppose one 
office could be arranged as a dining-room for 
them. They certainly don't deprive themselves 
of anything in the way of food, seem to have the 
best of everything, and are constantly asking 
what they can send us. It is always a filet de 
boeuf , as the army lives on beef. 

The chauffeur has also mended our motor 
which pumps the water up-stairs. We sat in the 
garden all day, being quite lazy and quiet. The 
boys played about with the soldiers. They have 
quite taken possession of the premises; have a 
pig — "Anatole," and chickens. There was wild 
excitement at one moment when Anatole escaped 
from his house and trotted about among the young 
potato-plants. I sent for one of the men and ex- 
plained that I couldn't have the pig nmning about 
the garden; he must be shut up. 

We invited all the gentlemen to dine to-night. 
We had brought down chickens and ham, vege- 
tables and fruit from Paris, and they accepted 
with pleasure, sending us word by Mme. G. that 
they had a filet de boeuf, which they begged we 
would accept. We asked them, all seven, and the 
two little maids were rather nervous as to how 
they could serve so many people. We would be 
eleven, and we were rather nervous too, as to 
knives and forks and spoons, as we have not re- 
placed what the Germans had taken — bringing 
down merely what we wanted ourselves. But 



236 MY WAR DIARY 

about 4 o'clock the Lieutenant sent us word there 
would only be four of them, the others were de 
service. (The maids told us they were too shy to 
come,) 

The dinner went very well. The chauffeur 
helped in the office. The Lieutenant was the only 
regular officer. He had been wounded at Char- 
leroi, left rather delicate and a little deaf, and had 
been given this place for a rest. The other men 
were sons of rich industriels, two from Lille, which 
is now occupied by the Germans. They have 
had no news of their families for months — one, a 
nice young fellow — Pinto d'Arringo, son of a Bra- 
zilian naturalised Frenchman, with an English 
grandmother. They had all seen a little service. 
One broad-shouldered, nice young man had been 
in the fighting all around us at Vareddes-Barcy. 
They were a little shy at first, but the boys helped 
us. They asked so many questions, and were so 
intensely interested in everything the young men 
said, that it put them at their ease. 

We went into the big salon after dinner, which 
looked ghastly; no table-covers, nor cushions 
anywhere, and bare spaces on the walls where 
the Germans had taken pictures. We had a won- 
derful collection of lamps, some old ones that 
Mme. G. had found in the garden, one borrowed 
from the grocer, and one or two small ones be- 
longing to the soldiers; but in war-times it didn't 
matter. The piano was not too bad, and we 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 237 

made music. One man played the violin well, 
and Pinto sang quite prettily. We sang various 
choruses, ending with the national airs and 
''Tipperary" and the famous march of ''Sambre 
et Meuse." 

Friday, June 4th. 

It has been very hot all day. Charlotte and I 
were busy up-stairs putting away all sorts of 
things, as we shall lock up two rooms. The pres- 
ent lot of soldiers are perfectly civil and reason- 
able, but one never knows what the next may be. 

After tea we walked up to the church to see the 
statue of the Virgin and Child the cure has had 
put up in gratitude for the saving of his church. 
When the Germans were approaching Mareuil, 
and the village was evacuee par ordre militaire, he 
went to the church before leaving, to take a last 
look. He had hidden all the vessels and archives. 
Kneeling at the altar, praying that his church 
would not be bombarded nor desecrated, he made 
a vow that if it was untouched (it is a fine old 
church of the twelfth century) he would put up a 
statue to the Virgin. Nothing was touched, and 
as soon as the village settled down a little after 
fourteen days of exile, he began his work. 

The statue stands very well at the back of the 
church, on the hill overlooking the canal. It is 
very well done, very simple, and can be seen at a 
fair distance from below, and from the canal. 



238 MY WAR DIARY 

We walked home by the canal, stopping to talk 
to all the women — and seeing soldiers everyivhere. 
I don't know what will happen with all those 
good-looking warriors about, quite changing the 
usual aspect of Mareuil. The war will be an- 
swerable for all sorts of incidents. I think the 
cure is very anxious. 

Saturday, June 5th. 
We had a most strenuous and interesting day 
yesterday. With much difficulty we got sauf- 
conduits to go to Villers-Cotterets, about fourteen 
miles from us. We heroically decided to take 
again the grocer's tapissiere — that most imcom- 
fortable, narrow, springless four-wheeled cart, but 
he had a good horse, and we thought we were 
quite safe with our sauf -conduits — ^but the grocer 
hadn't any! We hadn't thought of him. We 
consulted our Lieutenant, suggesting that he 
might, perhaps take us in his auto. But he was 
overwhelmed at the mere idea. He couldn't take 
any civilian in his car, and above all, no woman — 
not even his own wife if she were there, or a Red 
Cross nurse. However, he did what he could ; said 
he was going into Villers-Cotterets on duty Satur- 
day morning, and would come back as soon as he 
could; but not before 10.30. So we gave him 
rendezvous at the bottom of the Bourneville hill, 
where the poste des gendarmes is stationed, and 
started at 10 in our most ramshackle vehicle. 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 239 

It was rather amusing waiting at the poste. 
The gendarmes knew us well. Two of them had 
been quartered for some weeks at our house, and 
I presented them each with blankets when they 
went away. They brought us chairs, and we 
sat on the bank, under the trees, and saw all the 
people (not many, only military) who passed; 
the consigne was very strict; every auto, even 
with officers in it was stopped. There was a bar- 
ricade across the road with a narrow opening, just 
wide enough to let one carriage pass. As soon as 
the gendarmes saw a carriage coming down the 
hill, one of them stepped forward, holding up his 
gun horizontally, to bar the way. One unfortu- 
nate young woman was most indignant. She had 
bicycled all the way from Meaux, twenty-five 
miles, in the boiling heat, and thought her papers 
were all right; but the Captain of gendarmes 
was very stern, and wouldn't let her pass. They 
are still afraid of spies, and unfortunately some 
of the worst are women. 

Our Lieutenant appeared very punctually at 
10.30 with the grocer's sauf-conduit, and we 
started. It was very hot creeping up the long hill, 
just out of La Ferte; but once in the forest it was 
delightful. The big trees made a perfect thick 
shade. It was very still, not a sign of life or cul- 
ture. We met nothing but military autos and 
trains of lorries and autobuses, which made long 
trails of dust, and filled the air with the smell of 



240 MY WAR DIARY 

petroleum. We were certainly the only civils on 
the road. At the entrance of the town, just be- 
fore we crossed the railroad, two mitrailleuses, 
most sinister-looking objects, were stationed. Vil- 
lers was bristling with soldiers, as it is the head- 
quarters of the 6°^^ armee. 

We went first to the Hotel du Dauphin, where 
we always used to breakfast in the old days, 
when we hunted in the Villers-Cotterets forest, 
but it does not exist any longer as a hotel — is 
turned into a military administration of some 
kind. An officer who was at the door advised 
us to go to the Hotel de la Chasse, some little dis- 
tance off, and quite unknown to me. It looked 
rather nice, with a large courtyard and flowers in 
the garden, which was filled with officers break- 
fasting, who were all much interested in the sud- 
den appearance of two ladies and two children 
so near the front. They listened hard while we 
explained to the patronne that we had come from 
Mareuil, and were very hungry. She gave us a 
very good breakfast, and then we started off to 
see if we could find an officer of the Etat-Major, 
and get a permission to go nearer the front be- 
hind the last line of trenches, and distribute some 
clothes and food to the poor people. Many of 
the peasants went back to their ruined villages 
once the Germans were out of them, and were 
encamped there in absolute misery, living in 
wagons or sheds — any sort of shelter they had 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 241 

been able to find. We wanted very much to get 
to them, but the officer whom we interviewed 
wouldn't hear of it. He was much surprised at 
seeing us at Villers-Cotterets, and thought that 
we should not have been given a sauf -conduit. 
"It was no place for civilSt nor women and chil- 
dren." **Had we come from Paris?" *'No, by 
road from Mareuil." That surprised him still 
more. *'Did we meet any civils on the road?" 
"No, not one." He again repeated that it was no 
place for women, and advised us to get back at 
once before nightfall; said there was no possi- 
bility of getting any nearer the front, these days, 
with fighting going on all around us. 

We meant to go to the hospital to see what 
they wanted there (we had already.' sent several 
boxes of bandages and hospital shirts from the 
ouvroir), but were advised not to, as there were 
several cases of typhus, and it was very hot. 
We loitered a little in the town, hearing the can- 
non much nearer and louder than at Mareuil. 

The people say they are accustomed to it now; 
don't mind it. What they don't like are the 
shells. We talked to some of the shop people, 
and bought pens and briquets made by the sol- 
diers in the trenches out of pieces of German 
shells. As a rule the people did not complain of 
the Germans; said they behaved well when peo- 
ple remained in their houses; but it was a reign 
of terror; all the mothers terrified to have their 



242 MY WAR DIARY 

boys playing about, as they made short work 
with boys if they got in their way, or didn*t in- 
stantly guide them to any place they wanted to 
go to, or answer their questions — they shot so 
many in Belgium — boys of eight to ten years, 
who certainly did them no harm. 

The drive home was lovely. The country looks 
beautiful, but one felt so strongly the tragic still- 
ness and absence of life and movement. We 
stopped at La Ferte, and had tea with the abbe 
in his garden, which was green and quiet and 
peaceful, such a contrast to the street, quite 
choked up with lorries and heavy carts and 
wagons, and all the paraphernalia of war. 

Our cure came to dinner — a most frugal meal. 
We sat imtil lo o'clock in the garden, and our 
milit aires came and talked to us. They were in- 
teresting, telling their experiences and the horrors 
they had seen. One young man, soil of a rich 
bourgeois, was much impressed by the war; said 
he could never forget the first dead he saw after 
the battle of the Mame, in a village near us; 
fifty Germans lying dead in the fields — and that 
was nothing to what he felt when he came a little 
later upon forty or fifty Frenchmen lying in heaps, 
some with such expressions of suffering on their 
faces. He said he could hardly get past the 
bodies; as he turned into a courtyard of an old 
chateau, he suddenly came upon a German sol- 
dier who was terror-stricken, unarmed, throwing 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 243 

up his hands, begging for Hfe. '*! couldn't kill 
him, Madame, there in cold blood, a perfectly 
helpless, unarmed man — though I suppose I 
should have done it with the bodies of my com- 
rades lying so near. But I couldn't. I took him 
prisoner and handed him over to the authorities." 

They all said what we often do, that no one 
who had been through this war could ever be the 
same again; the entire mentality must change. 

The boys listened with rapt attention, and 
later, when he was going to bed, the eldest one, 
Willy, said to me: *'Why didn't he kill the wicked 
German, Danny, who had killed so many French- 
men?" 

This morning we hear the cannon distinctly, 
about twenty miles away, the militaires say. They 
went off early, at 4 this morning, to take food to 
the men in the trenches near Soissons, and said 
it was infernal — the sky a blaze of fire, and the 
steady roar of the big guns. And here it is the 
F^te-Dieu; the children came early to the gar- 
den and carried off as many roses as they could 
find, and one or two reposoirs dressed with 
flowers have been arranged on the road on the 
route of the procession; and the girls in their 
white frocks will scatter roses before the sacra- 
ment. ''Le Bon Dieu qui passe/' as they say 
in the country, and all ought to be peaceful and 
smiling. 

During the mass every time there was a silence 



244 MY WAR DIARY 

in the church, we heard the long, steady growl of 
the cannon, and we wonder who will be missing 
at the roll-call. 

We are taking the last train this evening for 
Paris. It would be impossible to travel in the 
daytime in this heat. 

I am writing in my room, leaving written in- 
structions to Mme. G. and the mayor as to what 
rooms I will give. I hear voices and laughter in 
the garden, and see the boys having a fine game 
of ball with Pinto, and Charlotte being photo- 
graphed under the little ''pergola C." by one of 
the young men. It has been curious and inter- 
esting living there three or four days with the 
army. It has brought us into such direct con- 
tact with the soldiers. We have thought and 
talked of nothing but the war. The autos and 
motor-cycles came in and out of the courtyard all 
day, and we always heard the rumble of the big 
autobuses as they went backward and forward. 

We sent our letters off by the military autos. 
They passed twice a day and took our letters, if 
we left them at the poste. The postal service is 
very irregular, the telephone cut entirely, and the 
telegraph reserved for the army. It was Mareuil 
under a very different aspect. 

Our soldiers told us they expected and hoped 
to remain still ten days or a fortnight at Mareuil, 
and they would certainly take care of the prop- 
erty. We begged them to use the dining-room 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 245 

when we had gone. As long as we were there 
they dined outside in the courtyard under the 
office windows; but it didn't disturb us at all as 
they dined much earlier than we did. Mme. G. 
and the chauffeur did their cooking, and I imagine 
the chauffeur did ours, too. They were all on the 
best of terms. 

I wonder what the next turn of the wheel will 
bring, and when and how we shall see Mareuil 
again ! 

Tuesday, June 15 th, 
Rue de la Pompe. 

I was busy in the morning, looking over and 
putting into boxes Willy's papers — ^finished with 
the Congres de Berlin and the Coronation of the 
Emperor Alexander. It all seems another life 
so far away. 

All the Aisne letters and newspapers were most 
interesting. I found some sauf-conduits (passes) 
from German officers, written in German, in 1870, 
and various letters about prisoners, wounded sol- 
diers, and francs-tireurs, of whom the Germans 
were always afraid — some letters from mayors 
and farmers, all about Bourneville, from where W. 
had sent soldiers to join Bourbaki's army. 

I have put all the papers of that time together, 
and when the war is over and Francis comes 
back, we will arrange a book with the reminiscences 
of the father and the son, of the two wars. 



246 MY WAR DIARY 

It is warm this evening. C. and I sat in the 
small salon with open windows and no lights, 
trying to make some sort of plans for the summer. 
We give up this apartment on the 15th, and are 
literally dans la rue. The doctor says we mustn't 
establish ourselves at Mareuil; there are so many 
dead men and horses buried near us, in the fields, 
that it would not be possible. We must let a 
winter and cold weather pass before settling there 
again. 

The street is perfectly quiet and empty; we 
might be in any small provincial town — only the 
search-lights from the Tour Eiffel sweep over it 
from time to time. 

Wednesday, June i6th, '15. 

Many soldiers came to be dressed before going 
back, and some of them brought wives and chil- 
dren; but the greater part of them were from the 
pays evacues, hadn't heard anything of their 
families since the beginning of the war, in August. 
It is very difficult to get any news from the de- 
partments that are occupied by the Germans. 

We had one or two people to dinner. Dr. and 
Mrs. Watson who have been untiring in their 
work and sympathy for the fighting nations, 
Mr. H., the novelist, and Comte H. de P. The 
last two men stayed on a little while, talking after 
the others left. 

Mr. Herrick was just from Venice ; said the en- 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 247 

thusiasm there when war was declared and the 
troops left was extraordinary, and the old hatred 
of the Austrians flared out like fire. He was 
much interested, too, in all Portes told him of 
the feeling in the country, in France, which so 
few foreigners ever get really to know — that curi- 
ous, respectful intimacy that exists in the country, 
between the grand seigneur, the owner of the 
chateau, and the village people, the butcher, the 
farmer, the cantonnier, all with their opinions, 
and all delighted to talk politics and agriculture 
with the chatelain. 

Thursday, June lyth. 

Another lovely summer day. H. and I went 
late to the Bois; had tea at the Chalet des Gauf- 
fres, close to Paillard's. It was lovely sitting there 
under the shade of the big trees, but so quiet and 
empty. One would almost forget the war except 
that every now and then a wounded soldier would 
pass, sometimes head bandaged and arm in a 
sling, and often a poor fellow limping along on 
crutches, the trouser hanging loose from the 
knee, a nurse in uniform walking with him. 
Everybody had a "Bon jour, mon ami!" for the 
soldiers, and they seemed pleased at the sympathy. 

Mme. de G. and Bella V. dined, and Bella was 
most interesting. She had been to Nancy and 
Luneville to see her husband, who commands a 
cavalry regiment in those regions. It was the 



248 MY WAR DIARY 

first time she had seen any of the horrors of war, 
as she was in England when the war broke out, 
and couldn't get back to her home in Cambrai, 
which is occupied by the Germans. She was 
horror-stricken at the sights — ^ruined villages — 
nothing but heaps of ashes — desolated fields, with 
every now and then a small mound and a rustic 
cross of sticks, showing somebody was buried, 
there; one or two chateaux completely destroyed, 
no roof, no windows, nothing but the four walls 
standing, and great holes in them. The I.*s have 
lost everything — all the inside of their beautiful 
old chateau burned, and everything of value taken 
away — ^accumulations of centuries, pictures, tapes- 
tries, books, nothing left. I wonder how many 
more will be in the same condition before the end 
of the war. The Germans will certainly burn 
and plunder all the country behind them when 
they begin their retreat — ^when ! . . . 

Saturday, June 19th. 
We have been very much taken up with pat- 
terns of masks at the ouvroir to-day. Something 
must be found to protect the soldiers from the 
terrible asphyxiating gas used by the Germans. 
The nurses who have taken care of some of the 
poor fellows who were caught in those vapours, 
said it was awful to see them gasping and choking 
their lives away. Our doctor says we ought to 
have masks. If there should be a great Zeppelin 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 249 

raid with poisoned bombs, and our windows got 
broken, we should certainly need masks to pro- 
tect ourselves. I wonder if we would ever put 
them on. I don't think there is much danger 
for us au i^'", but the maids on the sixth floor would 
feel happier — so we will procure them for all the 
household. 

To-day has been a day of rumours, street ru- 
mours, which all the maids hear and believe. The 
metro (undergroimd railway) — a tunnel pierced 
through from Soissons to Paris — Paris blown up ! 
I think there should be a severe punishment for 
the spreading of such reports. Some people are 
easily frightened, and a panic in the civil popu- 
lation might have had a bad effect at the front. 

I don't like the Zeppelin alarms myself, the 
pompiers dashing through the streets with that 
sinister ''garde a vous," gets on my nerves. 

Monday, June 21st, 191 5. 
I went with Anne B. this afternoon to help her 
tea at the American Ambulance. Among the 
many good thiags the Americans have done since 
the war broke out, is their voluntary service at 
the Ambulance, not only as nurses — many women 
can't nurse, have no vocation, and are not yoimg 
enough, nor strong enough — ^but in many other 
departments: bandage-room, lingerie, etc. Every 
afternoon from 3 to 5 there is a tea provided by 
American ladies for all the employes of the Am- 



2SO MY WAR DIARY 

bulance-^nurses, doctors, orderlies, chauffeurs, 
boy scouts. The ladies serve the tea themselves, 
and it is no sinecure, as everybody takes two cups 
of tea, some three. There are cakes and buns 
unlimited. 

It was interesting to see the different types of 
nurses, some ladies, some professionals, of every 
age and nationality, though, of course, most of 
them are Americans. Some of the young ones 
(and very yoimg some of them were), looked very 
nice in their short skirts, long, white blouse 
d'infirmiere, and a pretty little cap of tulle or 
muslin on their heads ; some middle-aged, serious- 
looking women, simply dressed in black or dark 
blue with the white apron, who were extremely 
glad to have a cup of tea, looked like good, steady 
workers. It was amusing to see tall, broad- 
shouldered chauffeurs asking for tea not too 
strong. One young fellow asked to have his very 
strong. I said to him: "It is very bad for your 
nerves to drink such strong tea." "I've done it 
for over twenty-eight years, Madame, and it has 
done me no harm yet." We talked a little (he 
was English), and he told me he was the eldest 
of six brothers, all soldiers at the front. "How 
old is the youngest ? " " Just eighteen , Madame. * ' 
* * It was wicked to let him go — a child ! " " Couldn't 
keep him, Madame; all his friends went!" He 
had just come back from the front where he had 
spent twenty -four hours with four of his brothers, 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 251 

and they had been photographed in the trenches. 
"Have you got a father or mother in England to 
send them the picture?" *'0h, yes, Madame; 
they have got the picture of the five of us, all 
well." 

Thursday, June 24th. 

It is very warm. Agnes Welsh and I went to 
the concert for the English Catholic church of 
St. Joseph. It was well done: girl and boy 
scouts sold programmes, and made a background 
with the flags of the Allies, when all their na- 
tional airs were sung. An Englishman with a 
pretty voice sang "God Save the King." He sang 
two verses, then requested the public to sing the 
last one with him, and very well it sounded — 
every one singing, including some wounded sol- 
diers, French and British, of whom there were a 
good many in the salle. They ended by the 
*' Marseillaise," very well sung by Mme. H. of the 
Opera; and then, too, all the public joined in at 
the last verse, and the enthusiasm was frantic. 

The "Star-Spangled Banner," under the head- 
ing of "National Airs of the Allies," was also very 
well sung by Miss M. (Let us hope it is a good 
presage, and that the sympathies of the United 
States are with the Allies, en attendant something 
more tangible.) 



252 MY WAR DIARY 

Saturday, June 26th, '15. 

It was lovely this afternoon, though warm; 
and H. and I went across the Champs Elysees to 
have tea at Laurent's. Charlotte and Frank 
met us, and we had a pleasant hour sitting under 
the trees. It was quite a new aspect of the well- 
known cafe to me. I have limched and dined 
there so often in the old days. I remember a 
dinner there only last June, the garden filled with 
pretty women, very much dressed or undressed, 
in that extraordinary fashion of last year, just 
before the war, when all the women wore trans- 
parent, clinging garments — Tziganes playing, jeu- 
nesse doree smoking expensive cigars and dis- 
cussing the winner of the Grand Prix. Paris at 
its gayest at the end of a brilliant season. All 
those men have gone now, some in the ranks as 
simple privates, facing the awful days in the 
trenches, and all sorts of privations, without a 
murmur. Many have fallen, many come back 
crippled for life, and many more must fall before 
this awful war is over ! 

There were few people in the garden — women 
and children — some nurses in their uniform, with 
soldiers and officers, all taking tea. 

We asked a young officer, evidently on the 
Staff, if the news was good (there is so much 
camaraderie now, everybody speaks to every- 
body). *'Mais oui, Madame, nous les repous- 
sons lentement, bien lentement, mais ils reculent !'* 



JANUARY TO JUNE, 1915 253 

Sunday, June 27th, '15. 
Again a lovely summer day. I met Comtesse 
de Franqueville (nee Lady Sophia Palmer) coming 
out of the English church, and we walked home 
together. She was funny over her own people; 
says the English are just waking up to facts after 
eleven months of war, and realising that they have 
a terrible fight before them, and a cruel, vindictive 
enemy who must be crushed. She also said all 
her people couldn't say enough about the French, 
not only of their fighting qualities (they are a 
fighting race), but of their quiet, steady deter- 
mination to go on to the bitter end. 

Monday, June 28th, 
Rue de la Pompe. 

Anything so perfectly uncomfortable as my 
apartment can't be imagined. One salon is 
crammed with furniture, chairs standing^'on tables 
— trunks and boxes everywhere; the large salon 
and the smoking-room filled with garments, 
blankets, etc., for the refugees. 

Charlotte has done very well with the ouvroir 
pour la vallee de TAisne. People have sent 
most generous contributions from England and 
America, and the ladies themselves have made a 
great many things. The young women of the 
U. S. Embassy have worked with her, and they 
have a very good collection of clothes, from babies' 
shirts to men's waistcoats and trousers, also sheets 



254 MY WAR DIARY 

and blankets. She has filled several strong linen 
bags, also made at the ouvroir, with clothes, and 
is sending off a large envoi to the bishop of Sois- 
sons, who has made an appeal for help for the un- 
fortunate peasants in his diocese, where hundreds 
of villages have disappeared entirely, nothing left 
but a black, charred plain. 

The bishop remained at Soissons through many 
bombardments, living in a cellar with his parish- 
ioners. He only came away when the bombard- 
ment ceased a little, as he felt he could do more 
for his people if he could move about and tell of 
their wretched situation. 



JULY TO DECEMBER 
1915 



Friday, July 2nd, 1915. 

It was very warm this morning. I lunched 
with Mme. de G. and Bella; Arthur and Charlotte 
were there. Arthur was very interesting, telling 
us about his usines (factories). He was asked to 
remain at his place. (He had a brother, brother- 
in-law, a nephew, and three cousins at the front — 
five Waddingtons **sous le drapeau"), and keep 
his factories going to make as much material as he 
could for the army. But how ? with whom ? All 
his best workmen had gone to the front. It is in 
such cases that one realises what mobilisation 
means in France — all the nation in arms. He de- 
cided to risk it with some of the old workmen 
and women, and is doing very weU, the women 
working perfectly. 

The women have been up to the mark every- 
where, working in the fields, driving cabs and 
ambulances, and now there are several woman 
conductors on the big tramways. They look very 
well in a long, black blouse, which completely 
covers their dresses, the regulation sacoche (black 
leather bag) slung over the shoulder, with a leather 
strap, and a bonnet de police on their heads. 

The other day, when I was going by the tram 
to the rue de la Pompe, a man in the tram was 
very rude to the woman conductor, who was 
young, evidently quite new to her work, and who 
wasn't quite sure of the stops at the street comers. 

257 



258 MY WAR DIARY 

He spoke very roughly and rather jostled her, so 
that she nearly fell out of the car. The men in 
the train remonstrated vigorously, and the man 
had to get out. 

July 4th. 

A very hot day. C. and I and the boys went 
up to the Bois to lunch at the *' Racing Club" 
with the M.'s. There were not many people; the 
breakfast good, though the service was slow. 
There were only two waiters for about half a 
dozen tables. We had ours outside, under the 
trees, and were quite cool and comfortable. The 
club is in the middle of the Bois, quite shut in by 
big trees. No one was playing tennis except 
some Japanese, who were playing extremely well, 
as they do everything. They were correctly 
dressed in white flannels, used all the English 
terms, but looked perfectly exotic. It was curi- 
ous to see their yellow faces, with keen, narrow 
eyes and yellow hands coming out of the white 
flannel shirt. 

We had the papers, but they are not interesting, 
the war news very brief, each day's communique 
exactly like its predecessor, and will be, I suppose, 
until some great battle or the defection of one of 
the Middle Empires gives a real result. 

Friday, July gth. 
Charlotte took the little gold she still had to 
the Banque de France this morning. The country 
has called upon every one to take their gold to the 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 259 

bank, where it will be exchanged for notes. We 
hadn't much, as we had given all ours to Francis. 
In the beginning of the war people said all the 
men must have gold on them, as in case they were 
made prisoners, the gold would be useful; so they 
all had louis sewn in a belt, which they always 
wear. Now they say just the contrary, that they 
must have no gold, and as little money as possible, 
as the Germans take everything. One didn't 
realise until the war had really lasted some time, 
what a large part lying and stealing play in the 
Teuton's idea of a glorious and wonderful war. 

C. said it was most interesting at the bank. 
Quantities of people, a great many guichets open, 
and everything done quickly and with the great- 
est order. One man next to her, brought a little 
chamois bag, out of which he shook ten thousand 
francs in gold. Next to him was a boy with a 
ten-franc gold piece — his last etrenne (New Year's 
gift). A great many women bringing twenty to 
forty francs. Everybody received notes in ex- 
change and a ticket: 

BANQUE DE FRANCE 

Versement pour la Defense Nationale 

**La Banque de France constate que Madame 
**Waddington a verse ce jour en or, la somme de 

*' en echange de billets de banque. Le 12 

**juillet 1915." 

We will keep the ticket as a souvenir of the war. 



26o MY WAR DIARY 

Saturday, July loth, '15. 

A nice-looking young Belgian officer came to 
see me this morning, to collect some money which 
friends in America had sent me for an English- 
man who is organising a field-kitchen at the Bel- 
gian front. He says what America has done in 
Belgium is superb. Thousands of people would 
have starved to death if America hadn't come to 
the front so liberally. She is now extending her 
work to the north of France, where the misery is 
appalling. 

Charlotte and I did some shopping for Francis 
in the afternoon. He asked for a big cake, iced, 
for their 14th July banquet, to be sent to a Cham- 
pagne merchant in whose house they are living, 
and who was going down to Rheims. We made 
him a fine paquet of cakes, cigars, bonbons, jam, 
etc. They are so pleased at the front to have a 
few douceurs. 

As we had gone to Colombia's for the cakes, 
we stayed to tea. I hadn't been there since 
last summer. There were a few people, among 
others Mrs. Bacon, whom I was delighted to see 
again; every one liked them so much when they 
were at the Embassy here. 

Tuesday, July 13 th. 

It has poured, a regular downfall all day, but 
we are all delighted as the country was drying up 
for want of rain. When I was starting to meet 
Bessie Talleyrand, with whom I had made an 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 261 

appointment to go to the Italian Hospital, H. 
said : * ' I suppose you will take your waterproof ? ' ' 
I wished I could, but some German Frau is prob- 
ably walking about very happily in it, as all the 
cloaks and rugs that were in the hall at Mareuil 
were stolen. 

I found Bessie at the Gare des Invalides, Jo- 
sephine with her, just arrived from Rome. Both 
her sons are at the front with the Italian army, 
and she has passed her examination as nurse, and 
is enrolled at the Italian Red Cross, but there are 
no wounded yet in Rome, so she asked for a week*s 
leave to come up and see us all here. 

We found Palma, Princess di Poggio, Theresa, 
Bessie and daughter, Comtesse Simeon, at the hos- 
pital, which is very well arranged — large, clean 
rooms opening on a garden. The men looked 
well cared for and as comfortable as they could 
be. One poor young fellow, with a refined artist's 
face, a sculptor, had his leg off. Bessie had ar- 
ranged to give him an artificial leg, one of the 
good ones, light and articulated, and he was so 
grateful. 

He and two others were in the same room, all 
moving about convalescent. Two had been at 
the battle of the Mame, and couldn't say enough 
about General Maunoury, who was in command. 

My nephew, a colonel of dragoons, said the 
other day the battle of the Mame was a miracle, 
... a miracle that saved Paris. 



262 MY WAR DIARY 

We went all over the hospital, ending at the two 
upper floors which the Duchesse de C. directs and 
runs entirely at her own expense. The rooms are 
quite beautiful, high and light and white; not a 
hospital smell of any kind, and even on this dismal 
afternoon they looked bright. Eight or ten men, 
all convalescent (one with his left arm ampu- 
tated), were sitting at a table in the big window 
at one end of the gallery — an infirmiere — and 
M. C, who is devoted and so kind to the men, 
teaching them to make artificial flowers out of 
mie de pain (bread-crumb). The infirmiere, who 
turned out to be Mme. Boni, the famous danseuse 
from the Opera (Italian-bom), was dressing them, 
and talking so easily and nicely to the men. It 
seems they all adore her, and sometimes she 
dances for them. 

It is curious how all professions, dancers, sing- 
ers, lecturers, find work among the soldiers. 

We had tea in the ofiicers' and infirmieres* 
dining-room — ^no one there but ourselves. 

Wednesday, July 14th. 
Such a quiet fete ; no illuminations, no flags, no 
dancing in the streets at the principal carrefours. 
There was quite a display of military. To mark 
the day in some way, they had transported the 
body of Rouget de Lisle (author of "La Marseil- 
laise") to the Invalides. A fine regiment of cui- 
rassiers passed and were wildly cheered by the 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 263 

crowd. Some of the women saluted the flag by 
the military salute. It looked rather pretty. It 
is difficult for the infirmieres to return the salute. 
All the officers and soldiers salute an infirmiere 
in Red Cross uniform, and I think it would be 
pretty if all the women could answer in the same 
way. 

A great many wounded soldiers were walking 
about the Champs Ely sees, and many people gave 
them cigarettes and tobacco. I was so sorry I 
hadn't any with me. One hardly likes to give 
money. 

Friday. 
I was at the ouvroir all the afternoon. Pro- 
fessor Hall with his wife and daughter came in. 
They are so interested in France and the war, 
and appreciate so thoroughly how splendidly 
France has come out since the war (nearly a year 
now) that it is a pleasure to see them. 

Saturday, July 17th, '15. 
I had a nice afternoon at Versailles. C. met me 
at the station. We went first to see the rooms at 
the hdtel, which are charming, large and airy, 
giving on the boulevard de la Reine. Then we 
found the boys in the park and sat there for 
some time. It rained at intervals, little summer 
showers, but one is completely sheltered under the 
big trees or little recesses cut out in the high, stiff 



264 MY .WAR DIARY 

box-hedges. Soldiers in uniform were doing the 
gardening, clipping, watering, etc. We had tea 
at "At Home," one of the numerous new tea 
places on the place d'Armes, which have devel- 
oped since two or three years. Mrs. Bliss and 
Mrs. Hall came in. They had been to see a colony 
of French and Belgian children, orphans. It 
seems that there are thirty or forty babies of two 
years of whom no one — ^not even the two Belgian 
nuns who brought them — knows anything — ^neither 
their names nor parents. They were found in 
cellars with a lot of miserable children. 

Sunday. 

I went to the Gare du Nord this morning to 
send off some packages to Soissons, and to ask 
about some that had been announced to me from 
England. (They, of course, hadn't come. I 
wonder who gets all the packages that I don't.) 

I wanted, too, to see the cantine where Char- 
lotte works. She was just starting for the Eng- 
lish train. She is one of the qu^teuses, which is 
rather hard work, as they go into all the carriages, 
just a few minutes before the train starts, and 
have to scramble out in a hurry when they are 
told. Occasionally the ladies don't get off in 
time, and are carried off to the next station. 

She looked very nice in her white dress and 
coiffe, and absurdly young. She has had some 
funny experiences. She heard two young men 



JULY TO^DEGEMBER, 1915 265 

saying in English: "We must give ten francs to 
that pretty girl/' and when she thanked them in 
English, they were much surprised. *'0h, we 
didn't know you were English," and much more, 
when she said: ''I am not English, I am French !" 

She generally gets a very good collecte. 

I went over the cantine with her afterward, 
which is very well arranged. Two long wooden 
tables spotlessly clean — and an excellent meal — 
all served by ladies, who wipe the table each time 
a plate or dish that has been used is taken off. 
At the end of the hall there are about fifty beds, 
where the poor men who are too ill or too tired 
to go on can rest. 

I talked to some of the men. As a rule they 
looked well. Almost all, as they went out, put 
a sou in the box that was at the door, marked: 
"Pour les repas du soldat." I said to our men: 
"C'est bien 5a?" "Oh, yes, Madame, we have 
had a good meal; we must leave something for 
our comrades who, perhaps, will need it more." 

Versailles, Monday, July 19th. 
I came out yesterday for Frank's birthday. 
We spent all the afternoon in the park, down by 
the canal, where there is a very good little res- 
taurant. We brought out the birthday cake, 
which the patissiere explained she could not make 
as she would like, with his name and age in beau- 
tiful coloured letters on the white icing — as she 



266 MY WAR DIARY 

was so short of hands. But she did put a bow of 
ribbon and a flower. 

There were a great many people at the restau- 
rant, French and British officers with pretty, well- 
dressed women imder the red umbrellas which 
made charming little niches imder the trees. 

There were boats of every description on the 
canal, and autos waiting on the road. All the 
warriors are enjoying themselves immensely. We 
stayed in the park until 7 o'clock. There was 
nothing but uniforms to be seen. The soldiers 
come out from 6 to 8, and every one had a girl 
hanging on his arm. They foretell an extraor- 
dinary increase of population. I would certainly 
prefer English babies to German, if we are to have 
a great infusion of foreign blood. 

The chateau looked beautiful as we walked up 
to the terrace, all its great fagade of windows a 
blaze of light from the setting sun; and in the 
distance, over the trees and canal, that soft blue 
mist that one sees so often in Versailles at the end 
of the day. 

As it was a birthday we made a great excep- 
tion and dined at the Reservoirs. There were a 
good many people, pretty women and officers 
dining. We walked back to our Hotel Vatel, 
and it rather reminded me of Marienbad — ^people 
dining outside at all the cafes, and women walk- 
ing about alone, quite independent. 

It is C.'s ouvroir day. I am sorry to leave. It 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 267 

was so cool and fresh this morning, and so resting 
to the eyes after the pavement of Paris. Our 
rooms are on the third floor, and we look straight 
into the big trees of the boulevard de la Reine. 

Thursday, July 2gi}i. 

I went with Agnes Welsh this morning to see 
Charlotte at the cantine of the Gare du Nord. 
Mr. Washburn met us there. He is very keen 
about everything connected with the war, and 
wants to see everything and help where he can. 

There were a great many people on the quais, 
and I left Agnes to look for Charlotte while I went 
to the cantine to see if she was there. She wasn't. 
The old man who presides told me she was making 
her quete. The room was full of soldiers; every 
table taken, and there were a great many waiting 
outside— all their hats and rifles piled up, and on 
each knapsack a big loaf of pain du soldat — such 
nice-looking rye bread, pain de seigle, they call 
it here. I went back to the quai, where I found 
Charlotte. She was on the best of terms with 
all the railway officials, who were all smiling at 
her. She still had two more trains to make, and 
we waited on the quai. 

The crowd was interesting, quantities of sol- 
diers of all kinds — permissionnaires, who were met 
and embraced by wives, mothers, and sisters; 
squads of fresh young men starting off to the 
front, and melancholy groups of one-armed, one- 



268 MY WAR DIARY 

legged men, cheerful in spite of their mutilation, 
and so proud still of the uniform. When they are 
finally out of the hospitals and unfit for active 
service, they must, of course, give up the uniform, 
which is a great blow to them. Even those who 
have only worn it a few months, who were wounded 
early, hold to their pantalon rouge. I thinlc the 
Government must give a badge or medal of some 
kind to the men who were wounded in the war. 

When C. had finished, we went back to the 
cantine, and Agnes gave medals and tobacco to 
the soldiers. There was an interesting man there, 
just from Arras, with one shoulder badly hurt. 
He had seen horrors. Germans packed into a 
Red Cross ambulance, calling for help. When 
the French soldiers went forward to open the 
door, a mitrailleuse hidden inside, mowed them 
down like grass. 

They give the men an excellent meal: soup, 
very good, a dish of meat and vegetables, cheese, 
fruit, coffee, and wine or beer. 

Charlotte came back to breakfast and went off 
immediately to Versailles. 

August 5th. 
We are having beautiful stimmer days, and 
usually at this season are established either at the 
seashore or else at one of our favorite simimer 
resorts, at Marienbad — ^but this year it is difficult 
to know where to go. All the hotels at the sea- 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 269 

side are used as military ambulances, or else closed 
altogether, and besides we are all so busy that it 
doesn't seem right to leave Paris. 

It isn't very warm. I go up to the Bois some- 
times in the morning. It is empty, a few old 
gentlemen sitting on the benches reading the 
papers — nurses and children — not many. 

Warsaw has fallen, but I don't think it is a very 
brilliant victory for the Germans. The Russians 
stripped the town of everything before leaving, 
and retreated in perfect order. I fancy we shall 
hear no more of the grand triumphal entrance 
the Kaiser was to make with the Empress, who 
was said to be waiting at Hindenburg's head- 
quarters, with splendid robes and jewels for the 
grande rentree. . . . 

Monday, August 9th. 

It has been grey and warm. I went to the 
can tine of the Gare St. Lazare after dinner to 
get Charlotte who was de service there — had been 
there since 4 o'clock. Both she and Mme. d'A., 
who was working with her, seemed rather ex- 
hausted with the heat and fatigue. However, 
both ladies were carrying about trays with bowls 
of hot bouillon, and huge pieces of bread and 
sausage. 

They don't give an entire hot meal at the can- 
tine after 7.30 (dinner), but they have hot 
bouillon, coffee, bread, cheese and cold meat at 



270 MY WAR DIARY 

night. The military trains arrive at all hours 
and always after the appointed time. 

There were quite a number of soldiers; some of 
them looked too tired to eat. Two young ones 
with fever could hardly stand. They were given 
beds to have a good rest for their early start the 
next morning. 

They have ten beds and a bath in a room along- 
side of the dining-room. An infirmiere is always 
there, day and night. The cantine is supported 
by the quetes (collections) the ladies make in the 
trains. They go in couples to all the outgoing 
trains, at the last moment, when the passengers 
are all seated. Madeleine got twenty francs the; 
other day from a lady in the English train, who 
was very frightened and nervous about the cross- 
ing, and hoped the louis would bring her good 
luck with all the mines and submarines. 

It certainly isn't a pleasant moment. to cross 
the Channel with the danger of being sunk — and 
always the interminable waits at the douane and 
passport bureaux. 

All the service at the cantine is voluntary. 
No one is paid except the cook and a boy who 
washes the dishes. They give a very good meal 
— soup, meat, vegetables, cheese, as much bread 
as they like, and beer, wine, or coffee — ^whichever 
they prefer, all gratis, of course. The meals cost 
the cantine fifty centimes a head. I can't imagine 
how they can do it so cheaply, but Mme. de B., 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 271 

who runs it, is an excellent manager. She is there 
every day, sometimes twice a day. 

The qu^te entirely covers the expenses, in fact 
more than covers them, as they have a fair sum 
in reserve. 

I stood at the door some little time, watching 
the crowd of soldiers of all arms, ages, and colours. 
There were some Senegalese, black as ink, and 
yellow Moroccans who passed. Many looked 
wistfully at the open door and the two long 
tables filled with soldiers, and all were told to 
come in. They deposited their kits outside, wait- 
ing their turn and were so pleased to talk a little 
and smoke a cigarette. I had a provision with 
me. They respond instantly to any mark of 
interest. Even the black Senegalais who couldn't 
speak French, broke into a broad smile when C. 
appeared in her infirmiere dress, and said: *'Merci, 
ma soeur; moi manger!" So she installed him 
at one of the tables and brought him his soup. 

We came away about 10.30; soldiers were still 
coming. The infirmiere in the medical room and 
her two young fellows were asleep — couldn't eat 
anything, but they would have a good breakfast 
in the morning. 

I left C. at her hotel, where she had some dif- 
ficulty in getting in. The staff of servants is 
considerably reduced. The hall porter is a child 
twelve years old, who naturally was fast asleep in 
a big chair, and didn't hear anything. 



272 MY WAR DIARY 

Saturday, August 14th. 

I went down again to Mareuil for twenty-four 
hours on Thursday. We still have French sol- 
diers in the house, some of the officers very ex- 
acting; and Mme. G. felt unable to cope with 
them. 

It was dark when we arrived, at 9 o'clock, and 
we had to grope our way across the track and 
into the little salle, where every one was obliged 
to show their sauf-conduits; eight or ten unfortu- 
nate people were not en regie, hadn't the necessary 
papers and were sadly preparing to spend the 
night at the station in the dark. One woman, 
well dressed and speaking in an educated voice, 
came to ask me if I was also kept, and did I know 
Mareuil; was there any hotel or auberge of any 
kind where she could go for the night. Mme. G., 
who had come to meet us with her lantern, said 
she thought there were good clean rooms at the 
only hotel in the village. We all walked off to- 
gether in the dark, and the poor woman looked 
so forlorn, I told her she had much better stop 
at my house. I could give her a bed and a meal. 
She was very shy, and when I named myself, 
that seemed to make matters worse. She couldn't 
think of intruding. I insisted a little, but she 
evidently couldn't make up her mind to come. 
I couldn't see her very well in the dark, but I 
think she was a boutiquiere of a good class, or 
the wife of a small farmer. Her voice and Ian- 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 273 

guage were perfectly good, like so many women 
of that class, who express themselves well and have 
very good manners. 

One of the railway men was walking behind us, 
so I told him to take the lady to the hotel and see 
that she got a good room. We parted at our 
gate. I told her if she couldn't find a decent 
room, to come back, but she didn't, and I suppose 
found what she wanted. 

I found no officers at the house except a cor- 
poral de gendarmerie who is always there, and 
whom we are glad to have, as it is a certain pro- 
tection. 

Mme. G. was very eloquent over her last band 
of soldiers: the officer most disagreeable, wanting 
to make various changes in the room — among 
other things, to knock down a cloison (partition). 
When she protested, he answered: "C'est la 
guerre ! Mme. Waddington a bien donne sa 
maison aux Allemands ; elle ne peut pas la refuser 
aux Frangais!" *' Donne" is perhaps not ex- 
actly the term to use, as the Germans took forci- 
ble possession of an empty house. 

Naturally, I shouldn't dream of refusing the 
house to French soldiers, and wouldn't want to ! 

Francis is very comfortably lodged in a small 
chateau with a good library and plenty of books, 
and a large airy room. 

However, that unwelcome officer didn't stay 
very long, though he told Mme. G. the place 



274 MY WAR DIARY 

suited him, and he should stay a month; but he 
was sent on after two or three days. 

The cure came to dinner, and we sat out after- 
ward. I tried not to see the potatoes and only 
smell the roses, which are beautiful. I have never 
seen them so lovely, climbing ones, of course. 
The whole side of the house is covered with such 
lovely white roses, but only the climbers. All 
the flower-beds were trampled over by the Ger- 
man horses, also the herbaceous border around 
the boys' lawn. 

I told Mme. G. to lock certain rooms, and left 
a note for the mayor, who didn't come to see me, 
asking him to insist upon the soldiers occupying 
only the rooms I indicated in the old house. 

We heard the cannon distinctly all the after- 
noon. The cure says the passage of the troops 
is awfully hard on the poor people, as they carry 
off everything — blankets, mattresses, etc. Of 
course one can imderstand the poor fellows, cold 
and wet, not being able to resist taking a blanket 
when they can get one. And I imagine all sol- 
diers do the same, but it is awfully hard on the 
village people, who have not yet replaced all the 
Germans took. Many of them are still sleeping 
on straw, covered with sacks. 

He says, too, that the troops of refugees are 
melancholy. The big salle at the mairie is never 
empty. They put down fresh straw every day, 
and the village takes bread and milk to the un-' 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 275 

fortunate women and children, who rest a day 
or two, then start off on their long, weary tramp 
to find homes that have ceased to exist. 

Paris, August i8th (Wednesday). 

I was at the ouvroir early, then stopped to see 
Charlotte, who was starting for the Gare de I'Est 
with the boys and a camp-stool, to meet Francis. 
The train was due at 6, but there was sure to be 
a delay. She had already been there Tuesday, 
thinking he might perhaps come, and said it was 
interesting to see the long file of women — mothers, 
wives, and children, waiting for their men. The 
line stretched out nearly across the great court- 
yard; some had brought camp-stools, but most 
of them sat on the ground. She said it was pretty 
to see how each permissionnaire was welcomed as 
he arrived, his whole family embracing him, 
children clinging to his coat-tails, and carrying 
his bag. 

Our soldier got here about 8.30, looking very 
well and gay, so pleased to be with us all again. 

Mme. Sallandrouze and Madeleine dined, and 
we were a very happy family party. 

He wears his uniform very well, quite as if he 
had been accustomed to it all his life. The boys 
couldn't keep off of him. They all went off early, 
as he had had a long night's journey. He stays 
until next Wednesday, a short week; but one is 
grateful for very small favours in war-time, and it 



276 MY WAR DIARY 

is everything to have him back, well and gay, 
and confident that things are going well with us. 

Thursday, August 19th, '15. 

We all lunched with Mme. Sallandrouze, who 
was delighted to have her two military menages, 
as the R.'s are here too. He is on sick leave, 
having had trouble with his heart. Both men 
were most cheerful, telling us all sorts of experi- 
ences. 

Francis went off directly after luncheon with 
Charlotte, to order himself shirts and a new tunic. 
I insisted on the whole party coming to have tea 
with me at Laurent's in the Champs Elysees. 

I met Norah G., who wanted very much to see 
Francis, and told her to come too, and we had a 
very pleasant afternoon, sitting tmder the trees 
— the two men making quite a pretty bit of colour 
in their bleu horizon. Every gargon in the place 
was around our table, fascinated by the stories 
both men were telling. 

Francis, Charlotte and the boys dined with us, 
and he played a little after dinner. It seemed 
quite the old times, except for the talk and the 
change in him. He has grown older, graver, with 
a curious steady look in his eyes. The conversa- 
tion was exclusively war. He said such curious 
things happened with so many men of all kinds 
serving in the ranks, particularly in the Terri- 
torials. His commandant (major) said to him 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 277 

one day that he had just done such a stupid 
thing. He was superintending the unloading of 
a camion filled with heavy rough planks. He 
thought some of the soldiers were slow, lazy, and 
called out to them rather sharply: "Voyons, 
voyons, il faut que cela finisse; un peu plus 
d'energie!" Still there were one or two who 
seemed awkward, didn't know how to handle the 
heavy planks, one particularly, a man about 
thirty-five years old. Finally he apostrophised 
him directly, saying: *' Don't you know how to 
work? You look strong enough ! What did you 
do before the war?" "Mon Commandant, I was 
professeur au College de France." 

One of Francis* comrades, who ranks him, is 
the son of a well-known big Paris grocer, like 
Potin — a very nice fellow. They were very good 
friends. One day he came in looking rather 
glum, didn't seem disposed to talk. Francis 
couldn't understand what the matter was. At 
last the young fellow said: "I hear you are the 
cousin of the smart Colonel of Cuirassiers who 
was stationed here, with the same name. " *' Yes, 
he is my first cousin." *'0h, I hear, too, that 
you are the son of an Ambassador!'* ''Yes, my 
father was ten years Ambassador in London." 
Still silence ; then : "I suppose that after the war 
you won't want to see me any more; we shall 
never meet; you won't know me." "That is not 
at all nice of you to say. I shall always be de- 



278 MY WAR DIARY 

lighted to see you, and after the war is over, if 
we both come out of it, I hope you will come to 
see me often, and we will talk over war-times and 
life in the trenches, and all the days of close 
camaraderie we spent together." He was rather 
mollified, but it was some time before he could 
quite get back to the old footing. 

Sunday, August 22nd, '15. 

To-day was lovely, a bright sim, but cool. Fran- 
cis, Charlotte, and the Tiffanys dined. Francis 
had been to the club where his friends (the old 
gentlemen) were delighted to see him. There are 
no yoimg ones left in town, and the embusques 
who work at the Ministeres or Etat-Major don't 
show themselves at the club. 

We had very good champagne which Francis* 
friends had sent for him to drink while he was 
en permission. When he is at Rheims he lives 
with these Champagne people, who are devoted 
to him. Madame, who has had six sons, took 
care of him when he was ill. 

We drank 'Trance, et les Allies" standing, and 
sang all the national airs after dinner. We tried 
to be gay, but with such heavy hearts, not daring 
to face the future. 

Tuesday, August 24th, '15. 
It has been warm all day. Francis came up to 
Charlotte's ouvroir for the vallee de I'Aisne. He 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 279 

was much pleased at the way she had managed 
the thing, and decidedly impressed with all the 
trunks and wardrobes full of clothes. 

The Welshes came to dinner for his last evening 
and were so interested in all he told them. The 
two boys are on his back all day, and Charlotte 
looks radiant, her eyes like stars. 

Wednesday, August 25th, '15. 
I went to the hotel before breakfast to see if 
Francis had all he wanted, and to decide upon a 
small apartment for Charlotte, and another school 
for the boys. They came to breakfast, then went 
off for last commissions. Everybody gave him 
things — a pipe, cigars, two bottles of old brandy, 
books, kodak. He went off at 5. Charlotte went 
with him to the station. I took the boys for a 
turn in the Bois. They were rather tearful when 
he bade them good-bye and told them they were 
big boys now, and must take care of their mother 
and "Danny.'* For me there was nothing more 
to do, only a kiss and "God bless you. Mother !'* 
and he was gone. The partings are hard when 
the last moment really comes. 

Saturday, August 28th, '15. 

Charlotte said that the scene at the Gare de 

I'Est on Wednesday night, when Francis left, was 

wonderful. Hundreds of women and children 

saying good-bye to their sons and husbands, and 



280 MY WAR DIARY 

all so courageous, smiling, and making all sorts 
of plans for apres la guerre; not a tear, as long as 
the train was there. When it moved off, the sol- 
diers cheering and singing, and all the people on 
the quais cheering, some of them broke down. 

I always think of the poor little girl in the first 
days of the mobilisation, trying to be brave, when 
the gars told her not to cry : "Nous reviendrons ! '* 
— looking up at me through her tears: "Tous ne 
reviendront pas, Madame!'* 

We are all delighted with the Russian naval 
victory at Riga; it seems as if the tide was turn- 
ing. The Germans may find a winter campaign 
in Russia as fatal as Napoleon did. 

We have just heard of d'Agoult's death — such 
a charming fellow. He was for some time naval 
attache at London with us, and we liked him and 
his wife both so much. They have had so much 
trouble, have lost three sons. 

Friday-j September 3rd, ^15. 

A letter from Francis to-day, saying the order 
has come from General Headquarters for him to 
pass his examination of Interpreter at last; that 
looks as if he would be named. He is so anxious 
for it, is tired of carrying despatches. I wonder 
where he will go. 

It has been very cool to-day. Some people had 
fires. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 281 

Saturday, September 4th, *i5. 

It is still cold to-day. I went late to see Com- 
tesse d'Agoult. Poor thing, she looks miserable; 
heard the news from a friend of d'Agoult *s, a 
naval officer sent from the Ministere de la Marine, 
to tell her. She thought he had come to see her 
about a bicycle, welcomed him most cheerfully 
until she saw his face. ** Madame, I have not 
come to speak to you about the bicycle. I have 
bad news for you. M. d'Agoult is wounded, 
severely wotmded." She said his face told her 
the truth. She merely asked: "When was he 
kiUed?'* "How?" "By a shell." "He died 
in two hours; never regained consciousness." 

It was a melancholy visit. We went back to 
the old days when he was naval attache in London, 
and we were all so fond of him. They had a fine 
little family, three boys and one girl. All the 
boys are dead, and now he, the last of his name. 
He needn't have gone to the front, was over fifty; 
but he said he had no sons to fight for France; 
he must go himself. 

As I was walking across the bridge I met Mrs. 
Watson, who picked me up and we went for a 
turn to the lakes. The Bois was almost deserted ; 
but the Champs Elys6es looked fairly alive with 
some lights in the avenue and the various 4ios- 
pitals. 

I hope Charlotte and the boys are enjoying the 
seashore. The children have been so long in 



282 MY WAR DIARY 

Paris and were pining for a beach where they 
could run all day, and not be told all the time 
not to make a noise and break furniture and 
gallop over people's heads in a hotel. Town is no 
place for strong, cheerful boys, country-bred. 

Sunday, September 5th. 
A beautiful warm day. I went with Bessie to 
Bagatelle to see the Russian Field-Ambulance they 
have just sent to France, and which starts for the 
front to-morrow morning. It looked most com- 
plete — the operating-room on wheels. There were 
a great many people there, in fact all over the 
Bois, and imiforms and languages of every de- 
scription. 

Wednesday, September 8th. 
The days are so exactly alike that one loses all 
count of time. Many of the Americans here are 
very hard on Wilson and the ridiculous position 
in which he has placed the coimtry: "America, 
the laughing-stock of the world !" I should think 
D. must go (and Bemstorff long ago) ! When one 
remembers how Sackville-West was given his 
passports for so much less important reasons ! 

Friday, September loth. 
Still lovely warm weather. We had a great 
many soldiers and soldiers' wives at the ouvroir 
to-day. Some of the women look so absolutely 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 283 

miserable. All want work, but we can't give to 
all. Our funds are getting exhausted. The ou- 
vroir has been working since the beginning of the 
war (August, 191 4). People have been most 
generous. There was a magnificent elan at first, 
but of course no one thought the war would last 
so long. The Kaiser said he should sleep in Paris 
on the 2 1 st August, 1 9 1 4. Apparently he changed 
his mind ! . . . 

Tuesday, September 14th. 

There is no especial war news. The Russians 
seem doing better. We see a good many people 
at the ouvroir, but no one really knows anything 
of what is going on. 

I have decided to go to Petites Dalles for ten 
days. Outrey will take me down. He told me 
I could not go with an ordinary sauf-conduit, as 
it was a watering-place on the coast, and the 
whole coast was infested with spies. I must have 
two witnesses to say they know all about me, 
and to certify that I was a respectable woman, 
not a femme legere ! He could be one witness, 
and I asked my friend the restaurateur at the 
comer of the street to be the other. He looked 
so respectable and well-dressed when I picked him 
up at the cafe, and v/as beaming at the idea of 
testifying to the respectability of "Son Excellence 
Madame TAmbassadrice." 

The Commissaire de Police knows me per- 



284 MY WAR DIARY 

fectly well, as I have to get a sauf-conduit every 
time I go down to Mareuil. The officer looked at 
all my papers, then remarked: *' Madame, you 
are not a Frenchwoman bom !'* ''Monsieur, you 
can see that on my certificat de manage. " " Were 
my American parents living?'* Then: ''How 
tall are you?" "I should think you could see 
that as I am standing before you." But it wasn't 
enough. I had to stand up under a measuring- 
board (like a criminal) , and he took down my exact 
height. It was really too stupid. But all French 
people love red tape, and the smaller officials revel 
in their authority. 

My two witnesses were also subjected to a strict 
examination, though their papers were en regie. 

I had an interesting visit after breakfast from 
a Chicago man, Mr. K., a friend of Ambassador 
Herrick, who gave him a letter to me. As it was 
my day at the ouvroir, I was obliged to go out at 
once, and suggested to him that he should come 
with me and see our work. He was interested in 
all he saw, and promised to try and help us when 
he got back to America. It was quite interesting 
to hear an impartial, intelligent American man 
discuss the war. Some of the Americans here, 
particularly the women, are quite hysterical when 
they talk about Wilson's policy, and war in the 
United States between Americans and Germans; 
they say they are ashamed of being Americans. 
He laughed at the idea of any revolution in 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 285 

America; said the Germans talked very senti- 
mentally about their Kaiser and their * * Vaterland/' 
but that, if it came to the point, not one of them 
would leave their good solid business, bankers 
and brewers, and throw in their lot with Germany. 

Petites Dalles, September 23rd. 

We have had some lovely bright summer days 
in this pretty little Norman village. It consists 
of one street rtmning down to the beach, a small 
stretch of galets (pebbles), very little sand, and 
shut in by high cliffs at each side. There are a 
few shops and houses in the street, but most peo- 
ple take one of the villas on the cliff, or else a 
little back in the country, which is lovely — ^broad 
roads with splendid old trees. 

There is a hotel on the beach which has been 
turned into a hospital. No one in it now, but 
they are expecting wounded and refugees every 
day. The other hotel, where we are, is at a little 
distance from the beach, up a hill, has a nice ter- 
race where we sit and have our coffee after lunch, 
and get a view of the sea. 

It was curious to be in a place where there was 
no sign of war; no sick or wounded soldiers, no 
Red Cross flags anywhere, no nurses in uniform, 
no men except old ones, quantities of nurses and 
children. The only thing that made one think 
of war was the crowd of people (the whole village) 
waiting^at the little fruit-stall for the papers, ev- 



286 MY WAR DIARY 

erybody talking to his neighbour and discussing 
the communiques. 

There is no especial news these days; the Rus- 
sians have evacuated Vilna — always the same 
tactics — removing everything of value and re- 
treating in good order. 

Bulgaria is inquietante; she is mobilising, and 
no one knows what that crafty Ferdinand means 
to do. It all seemed unreal when we were talking 
on the beach, watching the sun dip down into the 
sea, and the lovely sunset clouds that threw a 
soft, beautiful light over everything. 

The weather got much cooler about the end of 
the month, and we were glad to leave. We were 
the only people left in the hotel. The big dining- 
room looked forlorn with no table but ours. 

We had a beautiful day to leave — a big omni- 
bus with three Norman posters with high red 
collars and bells came over from Ivetot to get us. 
We went through lovely coimtry, sometimes 
passing chateaux with great wide avenues with 
the double border of trees one sees so often in 
Normandy; sometimes little farmhouses, with 
gardens and orchards, a few cows grazing placidly 
in the fields. Scarcely any horses and no men. 
Everywhere the women were working in the fields. 

Our horses took us at a very good pace, trotted 
steadily up and down hill, so that we really made 
our journey quite rapidly. It was a pleasant 
change to be in a horse- vehicle, and not to dash 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 287 

through everything in clouds of dust in a motor- 
car. 

At Ivetot there was a complete change. The 
little town and the station were filled with sol- 
diers, *' Tommies," most of them evidently fresh 
arrivals, their uniforms quite smart and new, 
showing no signs of campaign. 

There were several pretty young English nurses, 
evidently on the best of terms with the warriors. 

While we were waiting on the platform for the 
Paris Express, a train drew in with German pris- 
oners. We saw the officers quite distinctly, in a 
lighted carriage, smoking and playing cards. 
The men were in luggage-trucks. No one said 
anything or made any hostile demonstrations of 
any kind — except a few of the soldier railway por- 
ters, who scowled (so did the Germans), and mut- 
tered "Sales Boches !" under their breath. 

Sunday, October 3rd, 1915. 
A lovely warm day. I walked up to the avenue 
Malakoff after lunch, to see Mme. de Laumont, 
whose husband and son were buried yesterday 
(at least the husband was) ; the boy, twenty-four, 
killed in action, was buried where he fell. They 
had got with difficulty a permis for the son to 
come to Paris for forty-eight hours to go to his 
father's funeral. When the estafette arrived with 
the permission, the boy was killed. He wrote a 
charming letter to his sister, just before the attack, 



288 MY WAR DIARY 

saying, **If this reaches you, I shall be dead. We 
attack to-morrow morning. I am in the first 
line," and telling her to do all she could for his 
mother and father. The father was already dead. 

I didn't see Mme. de Laumont, but her mother, 
who adored her grandson. Mme. de Laimiont 
had gone to see a friend, Mme. de P., whose son, 
eighteen years old, has also been killed. Is this 
cruel war going to take all our loved ones away? 

We had a good many visitors at tea-time. No 
especial news; Russians holding on well. 

Tuesday, October 5th, '15. 

I had an interesting morning which changed 
my ideas a little. They revolve in a circle — the 
men at the front and the work of the ouvroir. I 
seem always to be calculating how many shirts, 
how many calegons, two-thousand metres of flan- 
nel will make, and how and where to get the wool- 
len stuffs. Everything has more than doubled in 
price, and besides, the Government buys every- 
thing for the army. 

I went with Mr. B., a charming American who 
knows Paris well (and all the rest of the world — has 
been everywhere), to see a little bit of old Paris. 
The rue de I'Ancienne Com6die, the famous Cafe 
Procope, where Voltaire, Mirabeau, and dozens 
of other well-known writers and grands politiques 
used to meet and discuss questions and proclaim 
theories which inflamed the minds of the young 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 289 

generation and upset the civilised world. We 
went into a little back room and saw the painted 
ceilings, and the Voltaire and Mirabeau tables. 
We really had a delightful hour in the past, 
standing under an archway where Danton, Marat, 
Desmoulins, and Charlotte Corday had passed, 
with hearts beating high with patriotism and 
ambition, scarcely realising the power that was 
in their hands. 

We walked through the cour de Rohan, a 
beautiful little square, very old-fashioned court 
with wonderful doorways and iron gratings. One 
could hardly believe one was in modem Paris with 
the busy, crowded boulevard St. Germain five 
minutes off. 

We lunched at the Palais de Justice. I was the 
only woman, and it was interesting to see all the 
avocats coming in with their gowns and square 
caps. The caf6 was lower than the street, and we 
walked up the three broad worn steps that Marie 
Antoinette walked up to get into the fatal tum- 
brel that carried her to the scaffold. I don't know 
why, but the old, worn stone steps say so much 
to me. I seem to see the thousands of weary feet 
that have tramped over them. 

Wednesday, October 6th. 
I was at the ouvroir all the afternoon. We 
didn't have as many soldiers as usual, and only 
a few visitors. One lady had been to St. Sulpice, 



290 MY WAR DIARY 

where there is an enormous colony of refugees, 
French and Belgian — all most comfortably in- 
stalled. Where there are families, they have two 
rooms and can do their own cooking and washing. 
The nuns look after them and beg for clothes — ^no 
matter what kind; they can always disinfect and 
clean, mend and find good pieces in any quite 
worn garments. It seems that some of the chil- 
dren's frocks are a curiosity, all patchwork. 
They get a great deal as we all send them things 
that we can't use. I have had one or two cases 
of old clothes that I had unpacked in the court- 
yard, and even then the smell was something awful. 

Mme. W. arrived there just as a large party 
was being sent off to the country. She said it was 
a wonderful sight. They were dressed evidently 
in all the second-hand garments that had been 
given to them. Some of the men had top hats 
and dress coats and redingotes of black broad- 
cloth — ^poor things ! 

We are sending troops to Salonica, which seems 
rather hard with so many Germans still in France. 
It is extraordinary how the Balkan states embroil 
the whole of Europe. 

Friday, October Sth. 

We are all much delighted with the first result 
of the Allies* offensive, but a little nervous over 
Bulgaria. I wonder if Ferdinand really believes 
in Germany's promises and the readiness with 
which she disposes of other nations' property. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 291 

Sunday, October loth. 
Our visitors to-day were rather blue over the 
Bulgarian attitude. The Due de L. and Sir H. L. 
very nervous, say there is no use of sending a 
small force . . . that was the mistake of the Dar- 
danelles; and yet the Allies, if they mean to fol- 
low up their dash at the" German trenches, can't 
weaken their front in France. 

Monday, October nth. 

I lunched with Comtesse D. at Ritz, where there 
were quite a number of people. We heard of 
Casteya's death — severely wounded and died in 
the hospital — another of Francis* friends, one of 
those who danced at the house. He leaves a 
young wife and child. 

The loss of young lives is something awful, and 
for what? There must come a heavy reckoning 
some day to the Kaiser, but that won't give us 
back all those who are gone ! 

After lunch we went to see the German cannon 
at the Invalides. There were quantities of peo- 
ple, many soldiers of all grades. To the uniniti- 
ated, one cannon looks very like another, but they 
all showed traces of battle. Some of the air- 
gims, with their muzzles pointed up in the clouds, 
were curious. What interested me much more 
than the cannon were the people looking at them. 
There was no boasting, no expressions of triumph, 
but a quiet steady look on all the faces. One felt 



292 MY WAR DIARY 

the determination to go on to the end. **Nous 
les aurons ! " I heard several men say. 

Sunday, October 17th, 
Every one was much excited this afternoon over 
the ZeppeHn raid in London. Mr. B. read us a 
letter from a friend who was coming out of a 
theatre, when one near was struck by a bomb. 
They had been warned at the Savoy Hotel, half 
an hour before the Zeppelin arrived, but didn't 
heed the warning, didn't think it was possible. 
A great deal of harm was done, quite two hundred 
people killed and wounded. No details have been 
in the papers. 

It seems incredible that the British avions 
can't get at them. A strict guard is kept over 
Paris. Several Zeppelins have been annoimced, 
but so far none have come. It is much easier for 
them to get to London, as the Channel fog pre- 
vents their being seen. 

October 19th. 
I went to the atelier in the rue de Chateau- 
briand this afternoon, where our Comite Interna- 
tional de Pansements Chirurgicaux is temporarily 
installed. Mr. W. was there, very busy unpack- 
ing cases, and making big parcels to be sent off 
to the hospitals. It is entirely an American work. 
All the pansements, blankets, old linen, etc., are 
sent direct from America. They send splendid 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 293 

things, which are most appreciated. All that I 
sent to some of my hospitals were very acceptable. 

The Paris hospitals are well supplied, but those 
nearer the front — even in big towns like Dun- 
kerque and Calais — are in great need. 

There is always friction between the Croix 
Rouge and the autorites militaires. 

I went to see the Comte de B. afterward, who 
has come up ill from the country. He was so de- 
pressed, saw everything so dark, that I was quite 
unhappy. Not only the actual moment with 
this awful fighting going on, but the apres la 
guerre France with no men left, no money, and 
no credit. Of course he criticised the Govern- 
ment, and still more the diplomatists. (He is an 
Ambassador's son.) They ought to have fore- 
seen what was going to happen, and made suitable 
provision — as if any one could foresee what that 
mad Kaiser was going to do. 

Friday, October 22n(i. 

The Mygatts leave this morning for America, 
via Bordeaux. They are not at all nervous. I 
must say I should be, and would certainly not 
take a French or English steamer if I was obliged 
to go to America. I hope they will send a wire- 
less as soon as they are out of the danger zone. 

Several people came in to tea at the ouvroir — 
all much excited over the murder of Miss Cavell, 
the English nurse. I wonder how even the Ger- 



294 MY WAR DIARY 

mans dared to cover themselves with such obloquy. 
The details are too awful. She behaved mag- 
nificently; knew all the time she was helping the 
men away that she was risking her life. 

The Balkan news is bad. It doesn't look as if 
the Allies could arrive in time to save Servia. It 
is awful to think of our yotmg men giving their 
blood and their lives for those savages. I am 
afraid our diplomacy has not been very brilliant 
in the Balkan negotiations. *'Some one has 
blundered.'* 

Sunday, October 24th. 

Things don't look cheerful in the Balkans. 
Greece declines Britain's offer of Cyprus. I sup- 
pose she couldn't accept such a palpable bribe. 

We had a nice letter from Francis, the first 
since several days. He was in the thick of the 
last offensive in Champagne; says the noise of the 
cannon and the quick-firing guns was awful. 
He had to piloter des convois de munitions in his 
brigade (show the way to mimition-lorries) , and 
was thanked by his colonel for his coolness and 
promptitude. 

Their regiment lost a great many men, and a 
great many hors de combat from the asphyxiating 
gases. 

He writes at night, says: *'I am writing at the 
window. It is a beautiful moonlight night. The 
noise of the cannon has ceased for the present. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 295 

We don't hear a sound except the rumble of the 
motor-ambulances bringing in the wounded; ex- 
cept for that and a few columns of smoke and 
sparks going up over Rheims, at which the enemy 
are still throwing incendiary bombs, we should 
never dream a war was going on.*' 

I suppose one gets accustomed to everything, 
and in a way we lead a normal life — eat, drink, 
and go out to see our friends. But at night, 
when the streets are perfectly dark, not a creature 
passing, no sound of life anywhere, a great sad- 
ness and terror of the future comes upon us. 

Tuesday, October 26th, '15. 
To-day we have had a thick yellow fog. Shops 
and trams lighted, quite like London, except for 
the blacks. I walked over to the temporary in- 
stallation of a new "Surgical Dressing Committee'* 
in a rather dark, cold studio in the rue Chateau- 
briand. I found three or four of the ladies, Prin- 
cesse R., Comtesse S., Mrs. P., working very hard, 
the rooms filled with cases, some of them not 
unpacked. The ladies were sitting on boxes and 
working at tables (a plank put across boxes) and 
looked very businesslike and very cold in their 
white infirmiere blouses. There is a small stove, n 
but it doesn't heat enough ; the place is really not 
comfortable, and not nearly large enough for all 
the boxes that are arriving all the time from 
America. 



296 MY WAR DIARY 

Mr. W., otir secretary, tells us many cases have 
arrived at Bordeaiix. How long they will stay 
there I don't know. It seems that several con- 
signments of cases and packages have crossed the 
Atlantic once or twice. Of course they are very 
short of hands at Bordeaux, and the unloading is 
a very long affair. When the vessel has to start 
back and not all the cases have been unloaded, 
they remain on board, go back to America, and 
hope for better luck next time. 

The Clearing-House does very good work; and 
the Government takes a great deal of trouble to 
see that the parcels are properly distributed. 

I went late to tea with Mrs. P. to meet Mr. 
Powell, the war correspondent. I think his book, 
Fighting in Flanders, the best of the quantity of 
war books that have been written. It is so natural 
and tells all his adventures so simply and frankly. 
He has been everywhere and seen everything since 
the beginning of the war. It was most interesting 
to listen to him. Of course his point of view was 
absolutely American, but I think his sympathies 
are quite with us. He says the French are fine 
fighters. He was all through the last Balkan War, 
and didn't think another one would have come so 
soon, though he felt the smallest spark would 
start mischief there. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 297 

Sunday, October 31st, '15. 

We had a good many people at tea-time, all 
talking of two things : the new Ministry and King 
George's accident. I imagine Gallieni is a very 
good appointment. It must be better to have 
un homme du metier at the War Office. Still I 
fancy Millerand will be regretted in the army. 
The soldiers liked him very much. I should think, 
too, the continuation of Jules Cambon and Briand 
at the Foreign Office was excellent. Cambon is 
very clever, not easily humbugged, not even by 
the Kaiser, who made a great fuss over him when 
he was Ambassador in Berlin. 

Sir H. L. came in late ; said the King was doing 
well, no bones broken ; but it was a narrow escape. 
His horse slipped and rolled on him, bruising him 
terribly. For one awful moment the officers 
thought he was dead. It is too unfortunate, as 
his visit to the front has been such a success. 
The soldiers were delighted with him. He was 
so simple and kind. Several people told me he 
reminded them so much of his father — so inter- 
ested in everything. Certainly King Edward had 
an extraordinary gift of sympathy, and knew 
exactly what to say to people and how to say it. 
I wonder what he in his wisdom would have 
thought of this war. He understood his nephew 
perfectly. I don't think any insanity on the part 
of the ** War- Lord" would have surprised him; 
but for a whole nation to go suddenly mad and 



298 MY WAR DIARY 

fancy themselves chosen by God to chastise the 
civiHsed world would have astonished him. 



Tuesday, November 2nd, '15. 

These have been melancholy days, though 
there were quite a nimiber of people in the streets 
carrying bimches of flowers, and the churches 
were crowded. A good many men, a good many 
soldiers. I got a chair for one poor one-legged 
young fellow. He was so glad to get it; said he 
wasn't accustomed yet to walking with crutches, 
was so afraid of slipping on the wet crossings. 
We are getting quite used to seeing the mutiles 
at work again. All the big shops have taken 
back their employes who have been woimded but 
are still able to work. 

At the Trois-Quartiers there is such a good- 
looking young man at the ascenseur (lift). He 
has lost his right arm, and limps a little, but he 
looks very smiling; has two crosses, the croix de 
guerre and the Legion d'Honneur. Every one 
knows him, and I fancy he has to tell his battles 
over again many times. 

The papers are full of the new Ministry. I 
think Gallieni's appointment gives great satis- 
faction. 

The Servians are making a gallant fight, but I 
am afraid the poor little country is doomed. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 299 



ANNEL 

' ChAteau-Ambulance d'Annel 
(8 kilometres from the front) , 
Saturday, November 6th, '15. 

We got down here last night. I decided quite 
suddenly late Thursday evening to come. Mrs. 
Depew had breakfasted and would bring me down 
in her motor if she could get me a sauf-conduit. 
She couldn't, but I asked the U. S. Ambassador, 
Mr. Sharp, where I was limching Friday, if he 
could do anything for me. He couldn't give me 
an official passport as I am not an American sub- 
ject, but gave a letter with the Embassy seal. 
Mme. D. was rather doubtful if I could get 
through, but I thought I would risk it, and I 
had, too, my pieces d'identite. 

We started at 4 o'clock, Mrs. D. and I and her 
English chauffeur, the motor filled with packages 
of all kinds, from hospital dressings to a *'quetch" 
pie, which we stopped for at Henri's, and which 
was very difficult to transport. It slipped off the 
seat once or twice. However, it arrived safe. 

It was a beautiful evening, still and bright, the 
road as usual, deserted except for military autos 
and ambulances. It was quite dark before we 
arrived at P., our first halt, and we were getting 
a little nervous. Suddenly we saw a bright 
light; a blue-coated soldier sprang up before us, 
his musket held up horizontally, barring the way. 



300 MY WAR DIARY 

The chatiffetir showed his pass, also Mrs. D. The 
man asked no questions and we passed. It was 
a rehef as it would have been a bore to have been 
obliged to stay the night in a little village. I 
don't know if the Ambassador*s letter would have 
helped me; but as no questions were asked, I 
didn't show any papers. 

We passed the other sentry in the same way, 
and were quite pleased when we turned into the 
great courtyard of Annel. 

We passed through one village where Spahis 
are quartered. It looked weird to see the tall 
figures in their white turbans and long scarlet 
cloaks, emerge from the shadows and disappear 
again in the darkness as the auto dashed past. 

We were quite a large party at dinner: Mrs. D., 
her daughter, and the daughter's governess, and 
the medical staff, very cosmopolitan. The head 
surgeon was English, the second American, and 
a French medecin en chef; also a young English 
chauffeur with his ambulance, and a Frenchman 
who knows English well, as a sort of surveillant. 

The Englishmen don't speak much French, but 
enough to get on. We had a quiet evening. 

To-day it has been beautiful, the sun shining 
in at all the windows, and the park lovely with 
the changing autumn tints, the poplars too beau- 
tiful, the long avenues like a wall of gold. 

I walked about a little in the courtyard in the 
sun. It was most animated, soldiers, motors, 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 301 

orderlies coming and going. Mrs. D. and I went 
for a stroll in the park, heard an avion over our 
heads, but didn't pay much attention, so many- 
pass all the time. Suddenly we heard our bat- 
teries at O. and the villages near firing hard, 
and little white puffs of smoke, like clouds in 
the sky. The men came running out. It was a 
German avion making for Compiegne, and pass- 
ing directly over the chateau. We stood a few 
minutes under an abri (there are several in the 
park), but thought we might as well go back to 
the house. We didn't run, but we walked fast. 
One or two bombs were dropped in a field, but 
didn't do any harm. 

The cannonading has been incessant all day, 
the windows shaking and the house trembling 
when one of the big guns roared. Before tea 
we walked to the end of the park to see the 
trenches and barbed-wire entanglements they are 
making there. We are so close to the front 
here that they are taking every possible pre- 
caution in case the Germans should advance in 
this direction. Of course one gets accustomed 
to everything, but it is unusual to live in an 
atmosphere of avions and trenches. 

Tuesday, November 9th. 
It has been beautiful again to-day. There was 
to have been a concert this evening, but late last 
night there came a telegram saying it must be 



302 MY WAR DIARY 

postponed: ** Impossible d'avoir sauf-conduits 
pour les artistes!" It was a great disappoint- 
ment and a great bore for Mrs. D., as she had in- 
vited all the officers of the neighbouring cantonne- 
ments (who don't get much distraction down here). 
In the course of the afternoon we heard laughing 
and singing in the courtyard. We went out to 
see what was going on. A piano which Mrs. D. 
had sent for, for her concert, had arrived in an 
ambulance; a big zouave was playing, and four 
or five soldiers inside were singing. 

As the concert was postponed Mr. D. suggested 
some music in the convalescent ward, which used 
to be the music-room, where there is a fine organ. 
She played the organ, Frances the cello, and the 
men sang solos and choruses. Some of them had 
very pretty voices. They finished, of course, 
with the ** Marseillaise." One poor fellow, an 
officer, who could hardly stand on his crutches, 
helped in and settled in an armchair, making a 
great effort for the "Marseillaise," dragged him- 
self up and stood as straight as he could, while 
the famous chant de guerre was being sung. 

Frances was charming with the men, so simple 
and gay. I can't think it is a good thing for a 
girl of her age to be in such an atmosphere of 
suffering and misery, but all the conditions of 
life are so changed by this awful war that ordi- 
nary rules don't exist. 

We had several officers to dinner (among others, 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 303 

the Due de R.), just out of the trenches, not hav- 
ing had their clothes off for nine days and nights, 
and all so en train and confident. Yet it is 
for these men between thirty and forty that the 
life is so difficult, brought up in every comfort 
and luxury, thrown suddenly into such a rough, 
dangerous life. Many of the best names in 
France are serving as privates in line regiments. 
It is different for the peasants, the young ones 
especially, who don't know what war means, and 
go off full of illusions. 

I am thinking of a little shepherd, eighteen years 
old, who went off from my village — a child who 
knew nothing of life but fields and animals and sun 
and air, and who slept every night on a heap of 
straw in a warm grange alongside of his beasts. 
He was so proud to handle a gun and be a soldier. 
His regiment was in Flanders, he was rushed at 
once to the front, was struck by a shell fragment 
the very first days, died in agony, poor child, and 
begging for his mother; and there are hundreds 
in the same case. The nurses tell me there are 
so many of the young ones who call for their 
mothers. One poor boy, half out of his head 
with pain and fever, called always for *'Maman." 
She said to him, putting her hand on his head: 
"Mais oui, mon petit, maman est la!" and the 
boy was quite satisfied and went off to sleep. 



304 MY WAR DIARY 

Wednesday, November loth. 

It is a beautiftil morning. Many of the con- 
valescent soldiers are walking about in the park 
with canes and crutches and bandaged arms and 
legs. Every day I stop and speak to such a sad 
little couple — father and sister of a poor young 
fellow who is dying — woimded in the spine, para- 
lysed. The old man is a type, small with red 
cheeks, many wrinkles, and white whiskers. He 
is dressed in stiff, black broadcloth; the clothes 
hang loosely on him. I should think he had bor- 
rowed them to come. The sister looks a little 
more modem. It seems that the boy wanted to 
be a Capucin monk. The doctor says there is no 
chance for him.. They know it quite welt 'and 
are waiting here for the end. 

After breakfast, Mrs. D. and I went in to 
Compiegne in the auto. It looked melancholy 
enough. Half the shops shut; nobody in the 
streets. Usually at this season Compiegne is full 
of people, hunting and shouting, and the famous 
pitissier jammed. I would hardly have believed 
it was Compiegne. 

We went to see the house knocked to bits by 
a bomb from a German avion, which also killed 
three nurses. 

We had some French officers to tea: the Due 
de Rohan, Noailles, and one other. They were 
interesting enough. Rohan was at the battle of 
the Mame, gave a most graphic account of it; 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 305 

said their orders were categorical: **Mourir sur 
place, resister jusqu'^ la fin." He never thought 
he would get out alive, nor that Paris could be 
saved. 

Paris, Thursday, November nth. 
We came in this morning. A lovely day. The 
woods looked beautiftil, but the country is dead; 
nobody in the fields or in the woods. They are 
making trenches everywhere. I don't know why. 
Perhaps they think the Germans may still make 
a last desperate dash on Paris. 

Paris, Monday, November 15th. 
I have taken up my regular Paris work again. 
We have had such miserable-looking soldiers these 
days at the ouvroir — ^men just out of the hospital 
and going back to the front. Some didn't look 
fit to go back, but they were all quite ready to 
begin again. 

Friday, November 19th. 

It was lovely yesterday. Charlotte, Willy, and 
I walked about a little and went to Emile Paul 
to have some books sent to Francis. He writes 
he hardly has time to finish them. The Colonel 
and all his comrades clamour for them. 

We had a nice musical evening last night, al- 
most the old times. The Wolffs and Mr. B. dined 
and we played all the evening. I was delighted 



3o6 MY WAR DIARY 

to accompany Wolff again, though I was rather 
nervous as I never touch the piano now except 
to make the boys sing the " Chant du depart" and 
the "Marseillaise." Wolff played divinely. It 
was a real pleasure, almost made me forget the 
war and the haunting terror always in my heart 
of what may come to us. 

Saturday, November 20th. 

We had a meeting of our committee of bandages 
and hospital dressings this afternoon at Mrs. W.'s, 
an American lady who kindly put her apartment 
at our disposal. An interesting English nurse 
was there, who was very practical in her sugges- 
tions. She said what we all realise, that the 
American dressings were not all such as are used 
here. Evidently not only each country has its 
own special dressings and habits, but each sur- 
geon as well. 

However, the things from America are excellent, 
arrive in perfect condition, and as everything is 
given, it is a fine thing to offer to the French 
hospitals. Some of the poor ones in the country 
need everything, and even some of the military 
hospitals — they have just the stricte necessaire — 
are grateful for anything. 

Monday, November 22nd, '15. 
Poor Admiral Boggs died this morning. He 
was a fine type of a sailor and a gentleman. I 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 307 

went to the house before breakfast — ^just saw 
Anna a moment. She looks badly. It has been 
a long strain for her. 

After breakfast I went with Fanny de M. to 
a meeting of the French-American Committee 
for the Belgian Croix Rouge. There were quite 
a number of ladies. Comtesse Greffuhle presided. 
Mrs. Sharp, American Ambassadress, was there. 
They decided to have a gala matinee at the Grand 
Opera, the first time it has been opened since the 
war. A Belgian deputy made a short speech, 
very grateful for everything that was being done 
for Belgium, but so sad. He spoke with much 
emotion. It is awful to think that there are, 
children whom no one knows about, not even 
what their names are; a lot of them were picked 
out of cellars in the Belgian towns and villages 
that were burned and destroyed — ^huddled to- 
gether like little animals. 

Friday, November 26th, *i5. 
I went to the Credit Lyonnais this morning, 
but couldn't cash my small cheque. There were 
long lines of people subscribing to the Govern- 
ment bonds. The employes, mostly women, some 
mere girls, perfectly bewildered with all they had 
to do. The cashier told me they would not close 
as usual at 4 o'clock, would go on all the evening. 
There were all sorts and kinds — ^poor, bent old 
women buying one bond, soldiers of all grades — 



3o8 MY WAR DIARY 

one young sergeant, good-looking, evidently a 
gentleman, making a big investment, and three or 
four very dressy young ladies, that is to say, 
dressy for war time: very short skirts, leather 
gaiters, short coats like the soldiers, with big 
pockets, and all carrying a fairly big leather bag. 
We all carry bags with papiers d'identite, permis 
de sejour, Croix Rouge medals, etc. At any 
moment one is liable to be stopped by a police- 
man and asked for papers — ^particularly all Eng- 
lish-speaking people, as the very zealous French 
official can't always see the difference between 
English and German spoken fast. 

Monday, November 29th. 

An awful day — cold rain. Charlotte and I 
went to tea with M. H., a bachelor friend and 
country neighbour. There were only twelve to 
fourteen people, and lovely music. It was a real 
pleasure to be distracted for an hour from all the 
anxieties and misery of these awful days. 

There was a man there just back from Servia 
who told us horrors of the miserable peasants 
flying in cold and snow from the terrors of the 
Bulgarian invasion — women carrying babies, one 
on each arm, smaller children tugging at their 
skirts and dropping off to fall down and die on 
the roadside, in the snow. We were haunted all 
night by the awful pictures he gave us. 

We are all working hard here for the Servians, 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 309 

but the little we can do seems nothing when a 
whole people has to be cared for. I ask myself 
sometimes why such suffering is allowed. We 
are taught always to believe in a God of mercy, 
who does not willingly afflict nor grieve the chil- 
dren of men ! Surely if the whole world has 
sinned grievously, it is expiating now. 

Abb6 D., my Catholic cure and friend, says we 
mustn't question the decrees of Providence — ^but 
we can't help thinking. . . . 

The news from Francis is good. He hopes we 
are thinking of Christmas and plum puddings for 
himself and his men. He also wants warm waist- 
coats — as many as we can send; says the men 
from the pays envahis are in desperate need, as 
of course their families can send them nothing. 

Wednesday, December ist, 191 5. 
It has rained hard all day. Bessie G. and I 
went to a meeting of the Belgian- American Com- 
mittee. Mr. Allen is going back soon to America, 
and thinks it might be a good thing to take over 
some films, and start some Allied cinematographs 
over there, and coimteract the wonderful propa- 
ganda the Germans are making with theirs. It 
seems they have splendid ones; all sorts of pic- 
tures, showing the Kaiser in full uniform, the 
"War- Lord" speeding his generals on their way; 
taking patriotic leave of his children and grand- 
children. Certainly we could send some terrible 



3IO MY WAR DIARY 

records of havoc and murder, whole villages de- 
stroyed, both in Belgium and France, and bands 
of unhappy refugees tramping along the deserted 
roads, trying to carry some of their household 
goods, but obliged to throw them away as the 
heavy march went on. All of them needn't be 
tragic. 

I often think of the description of the Queen of 
the Belgians going to parliament the day of the 
mobilisation — ^very pale, very quiet, her sons on 
each side of her. When she appeared in the royal 
box, there was a dead silence for a moment (she 
is a Bavarian princess, a Wittelsbach), and she 
grew visibly agitated, her hands trembling. 
Suddenly there were bursts of cheers, all the 
deputies standing, waving hats and handkerchiefs, 
shouting: ''Vive la Reine!" It would make a 
pretty picture. 

Thursday, December 2nd. 

Charlotte, Frank, and I went out to a military 
hospital at Drancy, near Le Bourget. It rained 
all the time, which was a pity, as the hospital is 
established in the old chateau, which stands in a 
large park. There are fifteen men, all very well 
taken care of by French doctors, and the Soeurs 
de St. Vincent de Paul, but no luxuries nor little 
refinements. The good sister who took us through 
the wards, said the men were not spoiled by visits 
or presents — was much pleased that we had 
brought cigarettes and chocolates. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 311 

Some poor fellows were too badly hurt to care 
about anything, but they tried to smile. One 
followed Frank with his eyes. I said to him: 
"You have children ?" "I don*t know, Madame, 
I had two, but I have heard nothing since the first 
days of the war. We come from a village close 
to the Belgian frontier. Had a little farm which 
we worked, and which gave us all we needed — 
but now!*' And the poor fellow's voice broke. 
*'If I could only know they had a roof over their 
heads and were not starving!" We took his 
name and address, and will try to get some in- 
formation, but it is very difficult. 

Sunday, December 5th, '15. 
We had a good many people at tea-time, all 
discussing Kitchener's journey east. B. says he 
hears the troops are coming back from Salonica. 
I can't believe it; having made the effort, I think 
they ought to stay. 

Monday, December 6th. 
Charlotte and I went shopping this morning, 
getting a Christmas dinner for Francis and his 
comrades. They are ten at the mess; we wanted 
to send a turkey, but the man at Potin's advised 
us not to. It would certainly spoil in the eight or 
ten days it takes to arrive at the front ; so we did 
what we could with pates de foie gras, hams, con- 
serves and plum puddings. The puddings are 



312 MY WAR DIARY 

made in tins expressly for the soldiers, and were 
as heavy as lead to pack. I hope they will get 
there. 

Francis, now being at some distance from 
Rheims, will not have the Christmas dinner with 
turkey and champagne he would have had with his 
friends the Champagne people. 

This afternoon we had a meeting of our Band- 
age Committee, and then went to look at rooms 
which some one told us the American Radiator 
Company would let us have for our ouvroirs. 
They are beautiful big rooms, quite unfurnished. 
The company is doing very little business, so I 
hope they will let us have them. Everybody 
talking Salonica. Say the French and British 
troops will leave. 

Friday, December loth. 

I went up late to see Charlotte who has a sol- 
dier staying with her — a man from St. Quentin 
(pays occupe), who has arrived in Paris with a 
permission of six days — ^knowing no one, no friends 
nor family here. Charlotte heard of him through 
his brother, a young fellow badly wounded, whom 
she had known at the B. hospital. The man, a 
gimner, looked very nice. Frank seized my hand 
as soon as I got into the house, and dragged me 
to the lingerie, saying: *'Viens, Danny, viens voir 
le poilu de Maman !" 

He looked rather sad, having just seen his 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 313 

twenty-two-year-old brother at the hospital badly 
wounded in the arm. They hope they can save 
it, not amputate; but it will always be para- 
lysed. He can never use it. 

December 12th. 
Charlotte, the boys, their little friend Alice 
Dodge, and the poilu came to breakfast. The 
poilu looked very nice; had had a bath, been 
shaved and all new underclothes, and the maids 
had cleaned and mended his uniform. He was a 
very good-looking young gtmner, and the children 
were delighted to have him. C. took the whole 
party, including the wounded brother (whom 
they picked up at the Biget), to the circus. 

Monday, December 13th. 

I dined at the Crillon with Mr. D. Mr. Bacon 
came and sat with us. He rather reassured me 
about America and the German element. He 
doesn't think the Government's policy very spir- 
ited, and does consider the situation grave, but 
laughed at the idea of civil war, or the Germans 
giving any real trouble in America. Says the 
Germans couldn't stand for a moment against 
the Americans if it came to a crisis. 

One or two English officers came and sat with 
us. I asked them what Kitchener had come over 
for. They replied, naturally, that they didn't 
know — and wouldn't have told us if they did. 



314 MY WAR DIARY 

Some one said he looked very grave, but he 
always has a stem face. 

Wednesday, December isth. 

I went to tea with the Watsons, to meet an 
American niirse who has just come back from 
Servia. She says the misery there is too awful 
for words. The flight of the wretched women 
and children in the cold and snow, over the moun- 
tains is something not to be imagined. Old 
people and little children too big to be carried, 
too small to struggle through the snow and cold, 
left to die on the roadside. 

She is going home to rest, but wants to come 
out again in the early spring. 

Dr. Watson read us a charming letter from a 
French cure de campagne — so large-minded, and 
so convinced that the religious feeling is coming 
back in France. 

Thursday, December i6th (191 5). 
I went to tea at the Ritz, where Mrs. Depew 
had organised a sale of pelotes fieuries, to give a 
Christmas present to the soldiers in the trenches. 
They were very pretty little cushions of velvet 
and satin, with a wreath of artificial flowers around 
them, and a fall of lace like an old-fashioned 
bouquet. They were very well arranged in the 
hall at the Ritz, and I should think a great many 
were sold. Mrs. D. and some of her friends had 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 315 

invited people to tea, and it was a very gay scene. 
I hadn't seen so many pearls and velvet dresses 
for a long time. The company was mostly for- 
eign, which explains the dressing. None of the 
Frenchwomen here wear anything but black or 
dark tailor suits. 

Sunday, December 19th. 
We had an interesting breakfast. Mrs. and 
Mr. Willard (no relation to each other) and Char- 
lotte came. Mrs. Willard, who is connected with 
every important and international working com- 
mittee in America, has just come over, and is 
going to organise the French branch of the *' Sur- 
gical Dressing" Committee. She was amusing 
over the trousers she had brought over for me. 
In one of the cases sent us from America, were 
twenty dozen woollen waistcoats, but no coats 
nor trousers. It seemed impossible to get any, 
though my men friends were very generous. One 
or two, instead of sending me flowers, sent me 
several pairs of trousers. I said one day at the 
Guvroir, that if I didn't get any more soon, I 
should put a notice in the papers in big headlines: 

"MADAME WADDINGTON WANTS 
TROUSERS" 

Mr. Willard said if I would write him a letter 
saying exactly what I wanted, he was sure he 
could get me some from America. 



3i6 MY WAR DIARY 

The result was most gratifying. Some began 
to come at once, and Mrs. W. brought me over 
one big bag full of trousers. She said she was 
puisued by them. Some packages arrived on the 
steamer the day she left. 

Thursday, December 23rd. 

I breakfasted with the Segurs. He was rather 
blue about the war news, and we are all unhappy 
about Salonica. It seems so awful to have our 
soldiers sacrificed for those brigands in the Bal- 
kans. We have no interest there, nor in Egypt 
either. I wish the French could have stayed at 
home and driven the enemy from our soil, and not 
risked themselves in the East. 

Segur also criticised America and Wilson's 
policy very severely. I couldn't say she was 
playing a very spirited part. Of course it isn't 
her fight; but she might have protested in the 
name of Humanity, and made herself a fine posi- 
tion as the generous young neutral power across 
the sea. 

Charlotte and Mrs. Dodge came for me there at 
2 o'clock, and we went out in Mrs. D.'s motor to 
the Military Hospital at Drancy. The two ladies 
had been there once or twice taking douceurs to 
the wounded men, and they decided to make them 
a Christmas tree. The Superieure, the Sceur 
Recamier, a charming woman, was delighted 
when they told her what they wanted to do. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 317 

Though it was pouring, she insisted upon going 
at once into the park to choose a tree, put on her 
black knitted shawl and sabots, and chose a very 
good one, and promised to have it put up and 
ready for them to-day. The motor was so full 
of packages of all kinds that it was rather difficult 
for us three women to get in, but we didn't mind. 
We found the tree very well installed in a comer 
of the big refectoire. The good sisters were in 
quite a flutter of excitement. One or two con- 
valescent soldiers and a soldier priest, the Pere 
Lausan, just from the front, were waiting to help 
us. The pere mounted on a ladder to put the 
star quite at the top of the tree. It was very high, 
and as he had been badly wounded in the stomach, 
the Soeur Recamier was most unwilling he should 
go up; but he assured her his legs and arms were 
solid, and two tall soldiers held the ladder. 

The tree was quickly dressed with so many 
willing hands; but they hadn't brought enough 
candles. While they were dressing the tree, I 
inspected the harmonium, as Charlotte thought 
I could, perhaps, accompany the soldiers if they 
sang anything, or play a march when they came 
in. I could do nothing with it, no matter what 
stop I pulled out, it always responded grand jeu, 
and roared through the hall. 

The sister who plays in the chapel came down 
and managed it better, though she said it was old 
and out of order. She was a charming, refined- 



3i8 MY WAR DIARY 

looking woman, seemed hardly to touch the notes, 
and brought such a pretty sound out of the old 
instrument. The Superieure told me she was a 
beautiful musician — ^premier prix piano Conser- 
vatoire — ^but that she had given up her music. 
It was a sacrifice she was obliged to make to the 
Bon Dieu. "But why, ma soeur? Surely music 
is a beautiful and elevating thing!" "Yes, but 
it was too much of a pleasure for her, and took 
time which should be devoted to other things. 
They must all make that sacrifice when they give 
themselves to God. We have also a young vi- 
olinist — ^premier prix Conservatoire. She, too, 
never touches her violin. It was difficult for her 
at first." 

The pere asked Charlotte if she would like the 
men to sing something — a Noel quelconque — 
which she, of course, agreed to with pleasure. 

We had a quiet evening. The news seems good. 
Everything quiet at Salonica. 

Friday, December 24th, *i5. 
I did a little Christmas shopping after we came 
out of the ouvroir. I had thought I would go, 
perhaps, to Potin's and get some chocolate and 
little things for the boys' stockings, but there was 
such a crowd even outside the shop, a long line 
stretching out into the street — one or two soldiers 
permissionnaires, with their babies on their 
shoulders, while the mother held the bag for the 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 319 

provisions — that I instantly gave up that idea, 
and got my things at another place. It looked 
quite like Christmas. The shops were open and 
well lighted. Some of the fleuristes had a beau- 
tiful show of flowers. People were apparently 
buying. One lost for one evening the impression 
of the dark, empty streets we have lived in so 
long. 

The patronne of the confectioner *s shop, which 
was quite full, told me they were doing a fairly 
good business — much better than last year. 

I took the things up to the boys. They wanted 
me to stay to dinner and go to midnight mass 
with them, but that was not easy to arrange, 
with no carriage, nor even servant — so H. and I 
had a quiet dinner at home. 

Saturday, December 25th, '15. 

I went to the American church and was dis- 
appointed not to hear **Hark the herald angels 
sing." C. and the boys stopped to say ** Merry 
Christmas" on their way to breakfast with the 
Bonne-maman. Outrey appeared about 2 o'clock 
with a taxi, and we went over to get Mme. Sallan- 
drouze and one boy. Charlotte and the other 
one went with Mrs. Dodge in her auto. It was 
a cold, drizzling rain, but we didn't mind, and it 
didn't take more than an hour to get to D. 

We found the hospital under arms, sisters, 
niurses, and various women employed in the lin- 



320 MY WAR DIARY 

gene and kitchen waiting in the hall. We lighted 
the tree at once, the two big convalescent soldiers 
helping — all the others had been kept carefully 
away, so as to have a surprise. 

The tree was really lovely, all white, nothing 
on it but white candles and shining silver orna- 
ments. The packages, one for each soldier (120) 
were piled up on a table. Each package contained 
a pair of woollen socks, a knife, tobacco, choco- 
late, a pipe and pencil with a long chain to go 
in their pockets, which they all like, two handker- 
chiefs, and a notebook, agenda, with a picture of 
Joffre; oranges, cakes, and an enormous cheese 
were also spread out on tables. 

When the last candle was lighted the doors 
were opened and the men came in, the grands 
blesses first, on crutches, with canes — heads and 
arms bandaged. Three or four carried by their 
comrades on their backs, putting them down so 
gently on the long cane chairs provided for them. 
A soldier-priest (they have been wonderful in this 
war) just from the front, with his vestment over 
his uniform, made a short prayer, and blessed the 
tree. The men sang very well the old Noel of 
Adam. Then Charlotte's youngest boy, Frank, 
recited very prettily the Noel of Theophile Gau- 
thier, and Willy, holding the flag taller than he 
was, sang the verses of the "Marseillaise," the 
whole assembly joining in the chorus. Willy was 
a little timid at first, but the men encouraged him. 



JULY TO DECEMBER, 1915 321 

Then the distribution began. The boys had 
two of their girl friends to help them — ^Alice Dodge 
and Mrs. Fairman's granddaughter. The pack- 
ages were all numbered, and it was pretty to hear 
the little childish voices calling out the numbers, 
15, 20, 50. Each man (that could) stood up when 
his number was called and saluted, saying: 
*' Present." It was funny to see all the big men 
eating cakes and chocolate like schoolboys. 

The good sisters hovered over them all, taking 
such good care of the wounded men, lest they 
should slip or fall. 

When all the candles were burning low, the 
Pere Lausan made a short address, thanking the 
ladies in the name of the men for the pleasure 
they had given them — not only the material part, 
the packages — ^but also for the thought in making 
the fete for them, sick and wounded, spending 
their second "war Christmas" in a hospital. The 
tree would always remain a bright spot in their 
hearts and memories. 

Charlotte and Mrs. Dodge were very pleased; 
they had taken a great deal of trouble, and were 
quite repaid by the smile on the men's faces, as 
they all filed out. Poor fellows ! I wonder where 
they will all be next Christmas ? 

We had a quiet family dinner with the Sallan- 
drouzes and Henry Outrey. Drank the health of 
all our soldiers at the front, and tried not to miss 
Francis too awfully, nor to think of the other 



322 MY WAR DIARY 

Christmases when we were all happy, and war 
never crossed our brains. 

Wednesday, December 29th, *!$. 

I flaned a little on the boulevards this after- 
noon. The poor little boutiques were not doing 
a very brilliant business; but the boulevards 
looked gay. A good many soldiers, permission- 
naires, with their families, were walking about; 
some blind ones — such a sad sight, were being led 
through the crowd, and the patronnes of the bou- 
tiques tried to explain the toys to them. A good 
many people gave them flowers, violets, and 
Christmas roses, and that they seemed to like. 
They look very sad; but the people who take 
care of them say they are cheerful. 

Some one told me a pretty story the other da}'' 
— a lady who is a beautiful musician plays quite 
often for the blind soldiers at one of their hos- 
pitals — the other day she had played all sorts of 
things, marches, popular songs, national airs. 
Almost unconsciously she started a waltz, and in 
a moment they were all dancing. 

December 31st, 1915. 
Paris is certainly looking up a little. There 
was such a crowd again at Potin's this morning 
that it was useless to attempt getting in, and in 
the afternoon some of the famous chocolate shops, 
the Coupe d'Or and, I think, Marquis, put up 



JANUARY, 1916 323 

their shutters. They had nothing left; were 
quite unprepared for such a demand. 

I dined at Mme. Sallandrouze's with Charlotte 
and the boys. We have dined there for years on 
New Year's Eve, and as usual, the boys helped 
us through the evening, as we played games with 
them. I came home early to finish the evening 
with H., taking Charlotte and the boys home 
first. The streets were perfectly dark. No sounds 
of activity anywhere. It is just after midnight. 
I hear no bells but some clocks striking the hour. 
This tragic year has finished with anguish and 
mourning for so many ! I don't know what 191 6 
may have in store for us. Hardly dare to hope. 
But if a great sorrow comes to us, we must bear 
it, as so many women have in France — ^proud to 
give their sons and husbands to the country, but 
always carrying the ache in their hearts. 



PARIS, JANUARY, 1916 

January 8th. 
Another tragic year is beginning with not many 
changes. Thousand's of homes desolate, thou- 
sands of young lives sacrificed. Germans still in 
all our most prosperous northern provinces; still 
in their trenches at Soissons near Compiegne, 
eighty miles from Paris. In spite of that we lead 
an almost normal life, and have got accustomed 
to the horrors of war. Of course, one is busy and 



324 MY WAR DIARY 

absorbed. I really only see the people who work 
with me at my different ouvroirs. I went to tea 
one afternoon in my ouvroir dress at the Swedish 
legation. There were not many people there. 
Countess Granville, of the British Embassy, also 
in her plain working dress. It seemed curious to 
see lights and men-servants, and a pretty tea- 
table. One has got so entirely out of any social 
life of any kiad. M. de Stuers, Dutch Minister, 
was there. He had just seen Reinach, one of 
our clever political men, arrived from Salonica, 
and much pleased with all he had seen. The 
Allies' camp splendid. They will never be at- 
tacked. He also spoke most admiringly of Sar- 
rail, the French General in command, a dashing, 
independent officer. 

January 14th. 
There are all sorts of reports to-day about the 
Kaiser's illness. One doesn't know exactly what 
to wish. If his death would end the war sooner, 
one would welcome the news. But will it? To 
us the Crown Prince seems absolutely incompetent, 
but some people say he is strongly supported by 
the **War Party" and ** Junkers" (young noble- 
men). 

January 20th. 
I went to the ouvroir this afternoon — found our 
caissidre (cashier) rather nervous at being late, 



JANUARY, 1916 325 

having just arrived. I thought she had had bad 
news of her husband, who is at the front, but she 
explained why she was late. She was standing 
at the door of her house, with only a shawl on her 
shoulders, no hat, when she saw a hearse pass, 
with a small coffin, evidently a child, and a soldier 
walking behind it quite alone, crying. She said 
something, she didn't know what, moved her, her 
feet carried her out into the street. She ran out, 
slipped her arm in the soldier's, and walked along 
with him. A fat old concierge next door did the 
same thing, stopping and buying a few pennies* 
worth of flowers from a cart as she hurried on, 
to put them on the coffin. Several other people 
joined them, and by the time they got to the 
cemetery, there were about a dozen people walk- 
ing behind the hearse. The poor man was too 
dazed at first to speak, but finally told them it 
was his only child, his wife was ill, and he had 
twenty-four hours' leave to come and bury the 
child. He gave his name and address, would be 
so grateful if some one would look after his wife. 
He was going back to the front that night. 
Jeanne went over the next day, found the poor 
woman in a miserable little room, ill and de- 
pressed. A neighbour looked after her. Of course 
the ouvroir will see that she is properly cared for, 
and try and find some work for her when she 
gets stronger. 



326 MY WAR DIARY 

January 24th. 
The Duchesse de Vend6me, sister of the King 
of the Belgians, came to the ouvroir to-day with 
the Infanta EtilaHe of Spain. She was much in- 
terested in our work. Thought the sleeping-bags 
very good. They were designed by Mrs. Mygatt 
herself, and are much better and more solid than 
those one finds in the shops. She was very in- 
terested in all the soldiers who came for clothes, 
talked to them, and shook hands with them all. 
Was much amused with a little Zouave, who 
looked about fifteen years old, with his open collar 
and fresh young face. He had been detailed to 
guard some German prisoners. Had protested, 
saying he wouldn't keep them — ^would kill them 
all. No one paid any attention to his protesta- 
tions, and he was sent off with a squad of men to 
look after the Germans. In the night, he and 
one of his comrades got up and cut off the ears 
of six of them. "Would Madame like to see the 
ears ? I have some in my pocket,'* diving down 
into his pocket and producing a brown paper 
parcel. That the Duchesse hastily declined, tell- 
ing him it was wrong and imsoldierly to muti- 
late unarmed men. *'Yes, I know that, Madame; 
they have all told me so, and I have been ptm- 
ished; but I shall do it again. I will always 
hurt and kill a Boche when I can. Ah, if Madame 
could have seen the things I have seen," the colour 
all coming into his face like an angry child while 



JANUARY, 1916 327 

he was talking, and keeping tight hold of his grim 
parcel. I think he got a very good package. 
We heard him still talking to our women as we 
went back to the big room, and his last words 
were: *'Au revoir, Mesdames. Je ferai mon 
devoir, mais je tuerai tous les Boches que je ren- 
contrerai.'* ("Good-bye, Mesdames; I will do 
my duty, but I will kill all the Boches I meet.") 

Francis came for a short leave last night. He 
looks very well. Was too much taken up the 
first twenty-four hours with the pleasure of seeing 
his wife and boys again, and being in his own 
house (with a' bathroom), to tell us many of his 
experiences at the front. However, that will come 
later. I think, too, it is a trait of the Waddington 
men, perhaps of all men, never to tell anything 
when they are asked questions. When they feel 
like it they will talk easily enough. We had a 
Zeppelin alerte last night about 10 o'clock, just 
as we were leaving the salon. The firemen dashed 
through our street sounding the ** garde a vous,'* 
but it didn't seem to trouble the people very 
much. All lights in the street (there were only 
two very dim ones) and houses went out, but the 
people came out on the balconies. Marie and I 
did the same, but we couldn't see anything, and 
no one seemed at all excited. Our concierge and 
our humble friend, proprietor of the restaurant 
at the corner of the street told us there was no 



328 MY WAR DIARY 

danger in our quarter. We might go to bed. 
The restatirateur (proprietor) has occupied him- 
self with us ever since the beginning of the war, 
when the first Taube flew over Paris. Had his 
cellar well arranged with rugs and lamps, and 
always told us not to be afraid, he would come 
and take us to his cellar, where we would be per- 
fectly safe if there should be any real danger from 
Taube or Zeppelins. I always meant to go and 
see his installation, but never seemed to find time. 

January 31st. 
The days go on regularly and monotonously. 
I went this afternoon with Mrs. Boggs to the Am- 
bulance Americaine. She with three or foirr other 
ladies gives tea there every Monday. Every day 
some ladies give tea, which is evidently much ap- 
preciated as they sometimes give three or four 
himdred cups. They give tea, bread, butter, 
and cakes. There are no invitations. Any one 
employed at the Ambulance is welcome. It is a 
curious mixed crowd. Doctors, nurses (ladies and 
professionals), chauffeurs, ambulance-drivers, or- 
derlies — ^no wounded — their tea is taken up to 
them. There is every variety of type from the 
yoimg, pretty American girl in a spotlessly white 
dress, bright-coloured silk jersey, and a little lace 
butterfly doing duty for a cap, on her head, to 
the comfortable middle-aged nurse in the ordi- 
nary Red Cross uniform, sitting down for a few 



JANUARY, 1916 329 

minutes to have her tea, and then going directly 
back to her work. They are almost all English 
and American nurses, volimteers, though there are 
some Swiss, and I saw one or two Dutch women. 
The men, too, are of all classes. Yesterday Abbe 
Klein was there. He is the chaplain of the Am- 
bulance, and a charming man, clever, cultivated, 
refined, devoted to the soldiers. The doctors 
come sometimes, the orderlies often in their white 
jackets, and always drivers and stretcher-bearers. 
We stayed there until 5 o'clock, when there were 
no more people, happily, as there were no more 
cakes or bread. We passed through one of the 
big wards on our way out. It looked beautifully 
fresh and clean, and there seemed to be plenty of 
people to attend to the wounded. But, oh, the 
pitiful sight of those long rows of beds, and the 
pale drawn faces that one passed, the men trying 
to smile or say something if one stopped a mo- 
ment! 

The Francis, all four, came to dinner — the boys 
sitting on each side of their father. He had been 
shopping all day, renewing all his clothes from 
socks to cap. He says they wear their uniform 
so constantly, night and day, that they never have 
time to get anything washed or mended. Francis 
told us all sorts of things of life in the trenches, 
up to his knees in water, or carrying despatches 
along bad country roads at night, with shells 
bursting all around him. He says it is melan- 



330 MY WAR DIARY 

choly to go back to some of the villages that have 
been shelled. The Germans always seem to pick 
out the churches, which stand there roofless, all 
windows gone, merely the four walls remaining. 
A ghastly souvenir of this horrible war. Can 
we ever give back to them a tenth part of the 
harm they have done us? 

FEBRUARY, 1916 

February ist. 
It seems natural to have Francis at home, 
coming in and out, and always bringing some 
friend for a meal. Last night we had a banquet. 
We began with a small dinner, which grew until 
I wondered how we ever could serve so many 
people. It is impossible to get an extra man to 
serve; there are none left; but the two parlour- 
maids did very well, and of course the meal 
was of the simplest description — menu de guerre. 
We had Francis, Charlotte, and the two boys; 
Comte and Comtesse Louis de Segur, very old 
friends (he was one of Francis* witnesses when 
he married); Comte and Comtesse Bernard de 
Gontaut, with their son, a lieutenant of dragoons, 
also home on leave; Marquise de Talleyrand, who 
gave Francis his first rocking-horse when he was 
about four days old ; and Baron de Grotestin, of the 
Dutch Legation, an old friend. Segur has fifteen 
nephews and great-nephews fighting; one is killed, 



FEBRUARY, 1916 331 

two badly wounded. Francis and Guy de Gon- 
taut told us all sorts of things about their trench 
experiences. It is astounding how men brought 
up as they have been in every comfort can stand 
the life — take it quite as a matter of cotu-se. We 
made music, of course, winding up with all the 
national airs and patriotic songs. Poor Madame 
de Gontaut was reduced to tears. She is very 
sad since the war — Guy, her yoimgest child and 
only son is the apple of her eye. They stayed 
very late, and the two little boys were so tired 
that they went sound asleep on a sofa in the 
ante-room, and we had great difficulty in rousing 
them, and getting them into hats and coats to go 
home. 

Francis has gone back to the front. He and 
Charlotte dined at a hotel not far from the 
Gare de I'Est, and I took the boys for a run in 
the Bois. Poor little things, they are always 
upset when their father goes off and it is pretty 
to hear them promise to be good and take care 
of mother when the last good-byes are said. The 
partings are hard. I wonder how many more we 
shall have. Now the long days of waiting begin 
again. We hear so little — are days without letters. 
Just now all oiu* hopes and prayers are centred 
at Verdun, where the fighting is terrific. All the 
great chiefs, Joffre, Castelnau, are there, and we 
have seen one or two officers who have come back 



332 MY WAR DIARY 

wounded. They say the slaughter of the Ger- 
mans is terrible; they go down in masses under 
the great French guns, but come steadily on, 
marching over the bodies of their comrades. Our 
men think they are given ether or alcohol of some 
kind, which goes to their heads and makes them 
crazy — they come on laughing and singing like 
madmen. Our losses, too, are very heavy, but we 
don't see any lists of killed or wounded. Very 
few Verdun wounded have come to Paris. 

Charlotte looked rather white when she came 
back from the gare. However, she is a soldier's 
daughter, her whole heart is with "Fighting 
France," and she wouldn't have her husband 
anywhere but at the front. She said the trains 
were crowded, hundreds of soldiers going back 
and saying good-bye to their womankind, and that 
all the women were brave, no fear, no murmurs. 
The French women have been wonderful ever 
since the first awful days of mobilisation, when 
suddenly in a few hours their lives were completely 
changed — all their men called to arms — but after 
the first shock all accepted the inevitable, and set 
to work to replace the men in farms, gardens, mills, 
shops, and in small trades of every kind. 

Sunday, 23rd. 
I went over to lunch with Bessie Talleyrand 
to-day. The Seine looked bright and dancing as 
I crossed it. A few flowers are coming up in the 



FEBRUARY, 1916 333 

garden. The sun streaming through the big 
windows of her salon. A young Belgian officer, 
Prince de C, lunched and was most interesting, 
telling us of much that happened in Belgium in 
the beginning of the war. Their chateau is almost 
in Germany, so close to the frontier. He joined 
the army at once, but his sister remained at the 
chateau with a younger brother, where she estab- 
lished an ambulance with French, English, and 
German wounded. She also had a few French 
and English soldiers hidden in a tower at the 
bottom of the garden. She and her young 
brother were in the hall one afternoon when three 
or four German motor-cars, filled with officers, 
drove up. They all got out, came into the hall, 
and one of them, a tall, good-looking man, intro- 
duced himself as the Duke of W. (a royal title), 
said they would like to dine, had their own food, 
but would like the use of the kitchen and dining- 
room; also that they must search the house as 
they knew English soldiers were hidden there. 
She said there were none in the house, trembling 
at the thought of the fotu* or five who were in the 
tower. They insisted upon searching the whole 
house, and left a guard at the door of the hall, 
forbidding his sister and brother to leave it. 
However, they found no one, and she heard 
nothing more of them until late in the afternoon 
a young officer appeared with a message from the 
Duke, inviting her and her brother to dine with 



334 MY WAR DIARY 

them. This she refused curtly, without giving 
any excuse, which rather surprised and discon- 
certed the young officer, who retired. In a few 
minutes the Duke appeared, already in a temper. 
Why had she refused his invitation to dine with 
them? **It is quite impossible," she answered, 
"which you will surely understand when you 
think about it." He wouldn't listen to her, in- 
sisted upon a reason — so then she replied that it 
would be impossible for her to break bread with 
people whom she despised, soldiers who burned 
churches and villages, and killed helpless women 
and children. He flew into a rage, told her to 
hold her tongue, and banged out of the hall. Her 
young brother was frightened, thought they would 
do something awful to her, so a little later when 
one of the younger officers asked him to dinner, he 
thought he had better go. The Germans all be- 
haved perfectly well at dinner, said nothing about 
the war, talked weather, roads, and farming pros- 
pects. He said the dinner was very good. They 
drank a great deal of wine. They left directly 
after dinner, with a great noise of clanking sabres, 
spurs, and snorting autos. Some days later they 
were warned that they were being watched, and 
the young man was advised to get out of the 
covmtry. He succeeded in getting across the 
frontier, having all sorts of adventures. He ended 
by swimming across the canal. Soon after the 
sister was carried .off to Brussels by the German 



FEBRUARY, 1916 335 

military authorities, who told her she was only 
wanted to give evidence in the case of Miss Cavell, 
that unf orttinate English nurse who was murdered ; 
would be brought back at once to her chateau. 
She never got back, was sent to prison in Ger- 
many, shut up in a cell, and obliged to wear 
prison uniform, allowed to go out for half an hour 
every day in the courtyard, and she is still there. 
She writes occasionally to her brother. Lately, 
thanks to one of the Cardinals, she has obtained 
certain mitigations of the strict prison discipline, 
can receive books — ^no papers — and material for 
working. One of her greatest deprivations was 
the want of light. All lights were put out in the 
cells at 8 o'clock, and those long hours of dark- 
ness were almost unbearable. What a life for a 
refined delicate woman! However, those brutes 
didn't miu-der her as they did the poor English 
nurse. One must be thankful for small mercies 
in times like these. 

February 28th. 

Our only idea is Verdun, where the French 
are fighting magnificently, the Crown Prince still 
hurling masses of his best troops on the French 
guns. 

We have letters from the cur6 at Mareuil beg- 
ging us for food, clothes, everything for refugees, 
from some of the villages near Soissons, and ask- 
ing us to come down for a day or two. We can't 



336 MY WAR DIARY 

— we have no motor, and all passenger-trains are 
stopped on the Chemin de Fer de I'Est, as they 
are rushing troops to Verdun. 

These are the last pages of my War Diary. 
There is so little to say. Even the splendid de- 
fense of Verdun doesn't mean the end of the war, 
and so many books about the great war have 
been written and will be written that the simple 
details of a family life are hardly worth recording. 

When my grandsons come to manhood and 
have sons of their own, when the world is at peace 
and the cannon hushed, and women are busy and 
smiling in the little hamlets where their mothers 
spent long months and years of suspense and 
anguish and mourning, they perhaps would like 
to read ''Granny's" remembrances of the Great 
War. 



WITH THE BRITISH EXPEDITIONARY 

FORCE 



HAZEBROUCK, OCTOBER, 1916 

Sitting at my window, in a rather dark provin- 
cial hotel, looking out on a courtyard where one 
tree stands up against the grey northern sky, the 
wind always howling dismally, and the tree sway- 
ing in a perfect tempest — I ask myself if I am the 
same person who, a few days ago, was spending 
long happy hours at a lovely island just off the 
coast of Vendee. I used to lie out on the warm 
dry sand, my head on a heap of seaweed, seeing 
nothing but the blue sky overhead, the sea at 
my feet, a few pleasure-boats drifting leisurely 
along. There were no fishing-boats, for the men 
are mobilised, and now the women do a great 
deal and replace their husbands in many ways. 
I have not heard of any who have ventured forth 
on a fishing cruise, which was the great occupa- 
tion and resource of the island. 

Except for the total absence of men (save very 
very old ones), there is nothing to indicate that 
a great war is going on. There are no soldiers, 
no woimded, no hospitals. The women all knit, 
trudging alongside of their donkeys; and life in 
all classes flows as easily and placidly as possible. 

I left suddenly, called away by the illness of a 
grandson, to this place in the extreme north of 
France. Even now, it all seems a dream. The 

339 



340 MY WAR DIARY 

long, weary journey with so many changes of 
vehicles that I think a balloon would not have 
seemed unnatural, the long wait at Nantes, in 
the dark station, the only lights being at the office 
of the chef de gare and the ticket-office, for a 
crowded train so taken by assault at once by trav- 
ellers and above all soldiers returning from their 
leave, that it seemed useless even to think of 
getting in. However, thanks to Mr. P., whom 
we met at the station, and who really pushed us 
on to the platform, we did manage to find our two 
places, the only unoccupied ones. 

The couloir was crowded with people sitting up 
all night on bags, rugs, the bare floor. We rather 
remonstrated with the railway official who came 
for the tickets and who looked harassed and de- 
pressed. He said they could do nothing; every- 
thing was in the hands of the military ; everything 
for the army came first, men, munitions, and that 
it was not a time for civilians to travel. He was 
quite right. It is not ! But when we suggested 
that they might put on another carriage, or at 
least not sell tickets, when he knew there were no 
more places, he jeered at us; said they had no 
*' extra carriages," and if, when the train arrived 
at Nantes, it was requisitionne by the military 
authorities, all the civilians would be put out and 
left on the quay — at lo o'clock at night. 

I had two hurried days in Paris trying to get a 
passport and sauf-conduit for Hazebrouck (which 



WITH THE BRITISH 341 

I didn't get), but they were very kind at the For- 
eign Office, and gave me a laissez-passer, which I 
" think would have carried me through even with- 
out the famous blue paper of the Grand Quartier 
General. 

Mr. Cambon said he would telephone at once 
to one of his friends at the Grand Quartier, to tell 
the military authorities at Calais to let me pass. 
It was a long journey; takes five hours in ordi- 
nary times, but I was en route for thirteen hours; 
left Paris at 9.30 and got to Hazebrouck at 10.30 
next day. 

The train, a very long one, was crowded with 
British soldiers. After Amiens, we really went 
through an enormous British camp, thousands of 
tents and barraques. It was a fine day, and we 
saw every variety of English life; nurses walking 
about in couples, officers playing tennis, soldiers 
at football. Long lines of cavalry with very good 
horses. A military funeral; men marching with 
arms reversed; endless fourgons with munitions 
and food and cannon. The men generally very 
fine-looking, very smart in their short jackets 
(so unlike our long French tunics), which give 
them an extraordinary length of limb. 

They were principally yoimg men; I don*t 
think they had done much fighting yet. Their 
uniforms and boots looked clean. 

We got to Calais about 5, and had two hours' 
wait there. The station was a curiosity — a solid 



342 MY WAR DIARY 

mass of khaki-dressed men coming and going, 
whistling gaily, making all sorts of jokes with every- 
one. I didn't hear "Tipperary." That seems to 
have passed for the moment. 

We had to go at once to the room where papers 
were examined by the military authorities, who 
were very stiff and curt. I was a little tmcom- 
fortable, knowing mine were not en regie. 

There were two trains, just one for Dunkerque 
and later Hazebrouck. A nice-looking woman, 
a lady, who was going to Dimkerque, was not 
allowed to pass; her papers not right. She pro- 
tested vigorously; said the commissaire de police 
had told her everything was quite en regie. But 
the officer was inexorable. "We have our orders, 
Madame; we cannot let you pass !" 

The poor thing was bitterly disappointed; 
didn't know where to go in Calais for the night. 
She asked me if I was going to Dunkerque. **No, 
to Hazebrouck." "You will never be allowed 
to pass, Madame"; but I told her I thought I was 
all right. 

I gave the maid, who had her sauf-conduit, my 
laissez-passer and papiers d'identite, but I didn't 
feel quite happy until I heard the officer say: 
"C'est tres bien; nous avons regu des ordres de 
faire passer Mme. Waddington." 

We had two hours to wait; couldn't go out of 
the gare; but the buffet at Calais is very good, 
and we had a very nice simple dinner. 



WITH THE BRITISH 343 

When I asked for cold chicken, the man was 
much taken aback, saying they hadn*t had any 
chickens for weeks. 

There was a big table d'hote for British officers. 

I started again about 7. Again a very long 
crowded train, stopping at all the little stations. 
None of them were lighted. People scrambled 
out in the dark as well as they could, carrying 
bags and bundles. 

One poor woman with a wounded son with her, 
who was going to St. Omer, thought they had ar- 
rived at their destination, and got out at one of 
the small stations; was much put out that *' Jean,'* 
whom she called, was not there to meet her; and 
had just time before the train started to climb in 
again. St. Omer was two stations farther on. 
The poor boy looked so weak and tired, as if he 
couldn't stand much more. However, at St. 
Omer, Jean with a lantern and quite a group of 
friends were waiting, and he seemed all right. 

We didn't move as we had been told the train 
didn't go any further than Hazebrouck. It was 
not quite so dark there, but it was such a long train 
that we had some little distance to walk before 
we were hailed by Francis (whose voice told me 
at once that the boy was better, before I could 
ask any questions), and one or two officers, who 
took our papers and passed us at once, without 
making the long wait at the bureau where the 
sauf -conduits and other papers are examined. 



344 MY WAR DIARY 

The hotel was just opposite the station, and we 
walked across. Mme. S. was waiting for me. 
My room was next to hers; "we all talked together 
for a few minutes. Then Francis came into my 
room and we talked until midnight. The child 
has been desperately ill with infantile paralysis, 
but his life is saved now. The great question is 
how he will get over it. The left arm is paralysed ; 
the neck and shoulders, too, quite stiff; but the 
brain is quite clear. The poor children have 
had a terribly anxious ten days. They say noth- 
ing can describe the kindness of the British doc- 
tors and nurses, of everybody, in fact. The in- 
firmi^res and religieuses of the Croix Rouge have 
been very good to them. 

My first visit to the hospital was sad enough. 
The French Croix Rouge have their salles on the 
first floor of the College St. Jacques, and on the 
story above, up a very steep flight of steps, our 
little Frank and his mother are installed in two 
bare, high, comfortless rooms, with windows so 
high that we had to get a chair to look out. How- 
ever, they were very glad to have even them, as 
it was very difficult to find anything. The town 
is crowded with British troops and refugees. 

I found the poor little boy much changed, so 
thin, and his face drawn, but not suffering, and 
his head quite right. It was pathetic to see the 
quiet little figure so helpless and unlike himself. 

He has nice English nurses, day and night, and 



WITH THE BRITISH 345 

likes them very much with their helpful ways and 
gentle voices. 

Dr. S., the English doctor, is perfectly devoted 
to him, comes three times a day, and is so gentle 
with him. His room opens into a dortoir (awful), 
with its rows of beds and stools without any backs, 
at the side of each bed. A long table runs down 
the middle of the room. 

They had cleared off one end, and there Char- 
lotte made her tea, and the English nurses the 
little soups and jellies which the boy likes. 

The first few days were bewildering. I saw so 
many people. It is still a confused memory. 
The doctors, the infirmidres, the abbe, directeur 
of the College St. Jacques, the religieuses, the 
infirmi^res-majors. One of them, a tall, fine- 
looking woman, one of the important ladies of the 
place, in the white nursing dress and coiffe and 
beautiful diamonds in her ears — the day-nurse, 
Sister P., passing backward and forward in her 
grey dress, the little cape bound in red. The 
directress of all the British nurses (some Red 
Cross, some Territorial, some Military) is Sister 
S. R., an absolute femme du monde, with a charm- 
ing manner and most energetic and capable. 
One or two visitors from the town who came to 
see Charlotte. The visitors always remained in 
the dortoir, some sitting on the stools, some on 
the beds. And the wonderful cooking creatures — 
a femme de menage, a refugiee from Armenti^res. 



346 MY WAR DIARY 

She looked like a savage; had no particular fea- 
tures — lumps all over her face, and a gruff voice 
like a man's. 

We are in the firing-line, but are not bom- 
barded. The place is not important enough, but 
from Armentieres and the neighbouring villages, 
which are bombarded all the time, groups of 
refugees come almost every day, and they tell 
us the misery is appalling — the town overcrowded 
with frightened, helpless women and children. 

We left the hospital generally a little before 6; 
and I think I shall never forget those first walks 
back to the hotel. Quite dark; the great place 
just lighted enough to see how dark it was, and 
always autos and big lorries dashing about. 

As the days went on and I felt happier about 
the child, I found much that was interesting. It 
was curious to live in this quaint little northern 
French town, really more Flemish than French, 
with its narrow, pointed houses, red roofs, and 
canal wandering through low green meadows — 
and yet to feel oneself in an English garrison. 
The town is under British martial law. They 
control everything. Big soldiers with M. P. 
("Military Police") on their caps, stand in all 
the main streets to direct the traffic; and it is 
funny to see them standing absolutely calm and 
imperturbable when torrents of invectives are 
hurled at them by indignant natives in their coun- 
try carts, in an absolutely imintelligible jargon. 



WITH THE BRITISH 347 

I asked one of them the other day if he had 
learned any French. "Not much, but it doesn't 
matter, Madame. We make them imderstand; 
and we don't mind their talking; we are accus- 
tomed to it." 

The shops are what one would find in any 
English provincial town — food (jam, of course, 
of all kinds), clothes, beds, illustrated papers. 
The ** Tommies" seem on the best of terms with 
the townspeople. They pay well for everything 
they take; and the doctors are very kind to the 
refugees, sick and wounded. 

There are a great many Anzacs (Australians 
and New Zeelanders) in the streets. They are 
not so military-looking as the correct, well set up 
"Tommy" — but they are a fine lot of men, gen- 
erally tall, broad-shouldered and young. They 
swing along at an easy pace, their big hats turned 
up on one side, their jackets rather loose, high 
boots, and enormous spurs. They say they are 
splendid fighters. Their record is a fine one; 
but they are pretty hard to manage, with no idea 
of military etiquette or "difference of rank." 

One of the officers (they are generally English, 
the higher ones), remonstrated with a soldier the 
other day for not saluting a colonel. The man 
promptly replied: "He would not salute any 
more colonels; he had saluted two the other day 
who had not returned it, and he was going to salute 
no morel'* 



348 MY WAR DIARY 

I was amused with some of them I met the 
other day in a shop. I and several other people 
were buying fruit, grapes, pears. The patronne 
showed us a fine bimch of white grapes. They 
looked very good, firm and yellow where the sun 
had touched them. **How much?" said one of 
the men. ''Three francs fifty," replied the 
woman. Upon which the man broke into a loud 
peal of incredulous laughter, saying: "You won't 
sell any at that price. In my country, we get a 
big basket full for one shilling," and he and his 
companions went off whistling and laughing, but 
declining absolutely any purchases. 

Our hotel is opposite to the gare. Every day 
we see troops coming and going. The other day 
quite a large contingent of British and Australians 
arrived. The British waited quite still — a long 
khaki line just outside the station, while their 
officers parleyed with the railway men. The Aus- 
tralians, hardly a second ; they jimiped over the 
barriers, pushed aside the employes, and were in 
the middle of the street and in all the cafes like 
lightning. They are as agile as monkeys ; vaulted 
over the fences and slipped in and out of the quan- 
tities of motors and big carts without slackening 
their pace. They ran as hard as they could out 
of the station. 

The gare is always crowded all day and all 
night, as there is a constant passage of troops. 
When they stop for three or four hours only to 



WITH THE BRITISH 349 

rest and eat, the streets are most animated, and 
the shops, p^tissier, tobacco, postal-cards and 
picture-papers do a roaring business. But it is 
quite different when the trains with wounded ar- 
rive. The grey Red Cross ambulances are drawn 
up close to the station, and one sees the ghastly bur- 
dens that the big "Tommies'* bring out so gently. 

One day the station was shut all day. No 
passenger-trains (there is only one, morning and 
evening) were allowed to start. Some one told 
us afterward that ** tanks" were passing. I don't 
suppose we should understand much if we did 
see some — still one likes to have an idea of all 
the new infernal war engines, and these seem 
terrible. 

When one remembers the old days when one 
spoke of a possible great continental war, every- 
body said all would be over in a few months. 
The new killing inventions were so awful that in 
a few weeks there would be no men left on either 
side. And now, in October, 191 6, we are getting 
ready for a third winter in the trenches, making 
warm clothes and trying to keep up our courage. 
But at night, when we are comfortable in bed, 
and the rain and wind are beating against the 
window-panes, we wonder how much more our 
poor men can stand ! 

To-day, it is bright and mild, the sun not too 
pale, really shining, and Hazebrouck appeared 



350 MY WAR DIARY 

quite different. It is market-day, and the great 
place is covered with stalls and vehicles; and the 
British and Anzacs are wandering about and 
buying. 

It is certainly the great day here. Our patronne 
asked us last night if we would please breakfast 
somewhere else this morning, at one of the cafes 
on the place, or perhaps with M. TAbb^ at the 
College St. Jacques (Charlotte took all her meals 
in the refectoire of the College as long as they 
were^living there, at the abbe's table, on a platform 
from which he could dominate the classes when 
the boys were there), as she couldn't give us the 
private dining-room we always had. 

For years, twenty I think she said, certain 
clients had always breakfasted in that room on 
market-days. The poor lady was quite worried 
in her mind ; but we compromised by saying that 
we would breakfast early, at eleven. 

We stopped at the patissiere's, a very good one, 
to order some brioches for tea, and she showed 
us, with much pride, a table in the inner room 
covered with most appetising cakes. She said 
she was always very busy on market-days, and 
made a great many cakes and tarts. But that 
now, since the English were here, she made twice 
as many, and often had to shut her shop at 6 
o'clock when she had nothing left. 

She advised us to take our cakes at once as 
she knew she could not keep them : * ' Ces messieurs 



WITH THE BRITISH 351 

prennent tout et ne raisonnent pas^* ("These 
gentlemen take everything without discussing"). 

We thought her advice good, and carried off 
our cakes. 

As usual, the English impose their habits 
wherever they are : their church services, 5-0'clock 
tea in all classes, their tennis, their football, quite 
simply, with an absolute disregard of the customs 
of the coimtry. 

I suppose there are no two nations so unlike 
as the French and the British; but I think this 
war will bring about a better understanding be- 
tween the two countries, each one recognising 
the other's qualities, the splendid fighting and 
endurance on both sides. But they fight differ- 
ently, as they do everything else. 

We have finally found charming rooms for 
Charlotte and her boy. She couldn't remain any 
longer in her garret at St. Jacques, as the holidays 
were over and the boys are coming back to school 
(poor little wretches, to sleep in that awful dor- 
toir). We all, including Mme. de L., who came 
in from her place two or three times to see C. 
before she went off to Paris, saw all the houses 
and lodgings that were left in the town, but 
nothing was at all tempting. One clean little 
bourgeois house down by the canal, well exposed 
(when there was any sun, it would come there), 
we had almost decided upon, but Dr. S. objected 



3S2 MY WAR DIARY 

so vigorously that we didn't like to go against 
his opinion. 

There are some very nice houses with a long, 
low fagade on the street, and very big gardens 
running off at a great distance behind; but, of 
course, they were all occupied by British officers. 
However, Dr. S. had one in his head, where 
Major D., the British ''Town Major" lives. 
Francis and Charlotte went to see it, and were 
delighted. A good large house, with a lovely 
garden, but they didn't think they would be able 
to get it. Finally after many negotiations, the 
thing was arranged. C. saw the Town Major and 
the proprietaire, a nice woman — and she has four 
good rooms. Major L. most kindly gave up his 
bureau, a large high room opening on the ve- 
randa and the garden; said his things should be 
taken away at once. 

There is a sort of a serre, or winter garden all 
closed in with glass on one side of the bureau, 
and two good bedrooms up-stairs. 

The English officers, staff, interpreter, etc., oc- 
cupy the rest of the house. It is very well situ- 
ated in an open part of the town; and to-day, as 
I am sitting writing in C.'s salon, one couldn't 
want anything prettier. The garden is full of 
flowers, all in bloom, roses, begonias, geraniums, 
with a very good stretch of lawn and a tennis- 
court. It is really a very sheltered spot. They 
call it in the town "La petite Nice." 



WITH THE BRITISH 353 

It was a little difficult at first making the winter 
garden comfortable, but people lent some tables 
and screens, the Major a chaise longue and we 
added small tables and chairs; and with some Tur- 
key-red table-covers, photographs, and a writing- 
table it really looks quite nice. 

C. has made friends with the gardener, who keeps 
her well supplied with flowers and a few vegetables. 

It is interesting to live, so to speak, with the 
army. All day, soldiers and civilians pour into 
the courtyard and veranda. The English bu- 
reaux are quite at the other end of the veranda, 
and the men and visitors don't get near our end. 
We only see tall soldiers moving about and don't 
hear anything. One can hardly believe one is in 
a house full of men. C. feels very well guarded. 
The gas btuns all night in the corridor, and there 
are always people about. Francis, who is twenty 
miles away, nearer the front, comes about once a 
week for twenty -four hours, sometimes on horse- 
back, sometimes on a bicycle. But he is very busy : 
all sorts of local questions come up all the time, 
and of course his Anzacs don't speak one word of 
French. There is a stable in the courtyard where 
he puts his horse. 

The first time he came without letting us know, 
so, naturally, nothing was ready. However, some 
of the English orderlies brought straw and water, 
and C.'s beautiful femme de menage went out for 
oats and hay. ' 



354 MY WAR DIARY 

He always dines at the British mess, as the 
cooking arrangements in the villa are of the most 
elementary character. 

One end of the winter garden (it is a very long 
room), is cut off with a high wooden screen, and 
behind that C. has a gas-stove (which the proprie- 
tress of the villa left here when she went away) 
and a big petroleum-lamp. Two long tables and 
a variety of kettles and saucepans. 

Her woman and Sister D. make all the little 
jellies, and cook an occasional chop which the 
boy wants. 

She has also made great friends with the bou- 
chere across the street, who told her one day she 
would make her dinner and send it over to her. 
She had been a cook herself, knew all about it. 
Would Madame come and see her kitchen? C. 
said it was beautifully clean, so she accepted, and 
the woman sends her over very good soup, chops, 
filet, anything she wants. 

Francis dined one night (for a wonder didn't 
ask any one) and said he hadn't had such a good 
dinner since the war. 

There is a large old-fashioned Flemish kitchen 
opening into the courtyard, as they all do here, 
with a fireplace big enough to roast an ox. But 
the English have it. Enfin, a la guerre comme a 
la guerre ! They are camping and not at all 
badly off. The boy is very happy in his big 
room. His bed is drawn up to the open window. 



WITH THE BRITISH 355 

and he loves to see the flowers and the gardener 
at work. When it gets too dark to see anything, 
he knows all the steps; the doctor who is very 
good to him, his father's horse in the courtyard, 
and above all the quick light step of Sister D., his 
English nurse. 

I can't say enough about the English nurses, 
particularly the military nurses. In fact, the 
whole English equipment is wonderful; all the 
details so well carried out. What they have done 
since the beginning of the war is admirable. 
When one thinks that they had practically no 
army, and that everything had to be organised ! 

Francis had great difficulty in getting a nurse. 
He telegraphed to Lord Bertie, the British Am- 
bassador, and to various people in Paris, but the 
formalities were endless. It seems the British 
are very strict about having their lines entered. 
Finally one of the high officers here telegraphed 
for a military nurse from London. She was told 
one afternoon she must leave the next morning 
for France to nurse a serious case at Hazebrouck. 
She crossed to Boulogne in a troop-ship, stood all 
the way over — they were packed like sardines — 
found an ambulance waiting for her at Boulogne, 
and came straight off to Hazebrouck — three hours' 
run. Francis was standing at the door of the 
hospital; saw the nurse arrive; couldn't believe 
it was his nurse — as she had only been telegraphed 
for the day before, but went to see if he could help 



356 MY WAR DIARY 

her as she seemed to have some difficulty in 
making herself understood in French. 

She told him she was Sister D., had left Lon- 
don that morning, and was told to come to Haze- 
brouck to nurse a serious case in Mr. Waddington's 
family. *'I'm Mr. Waddington," he said; ''and 
you are to nurse my boy." He took her directly 
up-stairs — said in half an hour she was installed 
— didn't mind apparently the very primitive, im- 
comfortable surroundings, hardly wanted a cup 
of tea. 

They are mobilised like soldiers. She came 
with her rations and her kit-bed; had no idea if 
she was coming to a camp or a tent or a hospital. 

She hadn't been half an hour in the room when 
a soldier appeared bringing her her billet de loge- 
ment for the next day. She is a night-nurse. 
She got all her instructions from the doctor, ar- 
ranged herself on the table in the dortoir all she 
might need for the night, made friends with the 
child; and his poor mother went to bed with a 
feeling of comfort and security she hadn't known 
for days. 

The day-nurse too (she is a Territorial, not Red 
Cross) is most competent, and they are both so 
cheerful. They have all passed an examination 
for simple cooking, and can make the soups and 
jellies that an invalid wants. 

I wish we had such an organisation in our mili- 
tary hospitals ; but those schools of trained nurses 



WITH THE BRITISH 357 

don't exist in France. Of late years it has been 
rather the fashion for the femmes du monde to 
pass examinations for the Croix Rouge, and I 
beheve there are some excellent nurses; but they 
are not numerous and all voluntary. The French- 
woman ought to be a good nurse. She occupies 
herself so much with her household and her chil- 
dren, going into every detail. 

It was pouring the other day. I believe it 
always rains in these northern towns. The big 
place was like a lake. I tried in vain to get a 
pair of india-rubbers but couldn't, and was very 
uncomfortable in my wet shoes. 

Sister S. R., the head of the British nurses, 
came to see us — wonderfully equipped. She had 
on a long black mackintosh (tarpaulin, like what 
the sailors wear), with big pockets and a hood, and 
high rubber boots. She left her mackintosh out- 
side, and came in in her white clothes, looking as 
clean and dry as if it were a sunshiny June day. 
She told us she had done all the campaign of the 
Yser in a field-hospital, at the front, and that she 
never could have done it without the rubber coat 
and particularly the boots. The soft black mud 
was something awful; they really went in up to 
their knees. They lived in tents and had to go 
backward and forward to the hospital and the 
sanitary trains. 

She said she never could have imagined any- 
thing so awful as the wounded men who were 



3S8 MY WAR DIARY 

brought in. Bundles of mud, their clothes stiff 
with blood and dirt of all descriptions. Those 
who had been only lying out one night in the 
battle-field, in good condition compared to those 
who had remained sometimes forty-eight hours. 

She was most interesting, and I couldn't help 
thinking as she sat there on a bed, or a stool, in 
the dortoir, with her fine profile and ''grand air," 
that, after all, blood tells, and that the gently- 
born lady accommodates herself better than the 
ordinary woman to all the discomforts and 
dangers that a field-nurse is exposed to. Of course 
there must be the vocation, or else the strong 
faith that one's life is not one's own at such a 
time, but in God's hands, to be sacrificed when 
the time comes. 

I am thinking of a nurse we were all so fond of, 
who left Paris to go and take charge of a hospital 
at Mosch, where shells were falling freely. She 
had a young religieuse with her who was nervous, 
frightened of the shells, couldn't make up her 
mind to leave the shelter of the house and ven- 
ture out into the open. Our good sister encour- 
aged her, and one afternoon they left the house 
together. Our sister was struck instantly, killed 
at once by a passing shell. They gave her a 
soldier's funeral, with the flag covering the coffin. 
Her memory lives in many hearts. 



WITH THE BRITISH 359 

Sunday. 

I almost felt as if I was really in England. I 
stepped in at the church of St. Eloi on my way 
to see the children. It is a fine old church, stand- 
ing in a green close like so many of the English 
cathedrals. There were a good many men in 
church, two Scottish soldiers in kilts kneeling on 
the stone pavement, most devout. I was sur- 
prised. One doesn't think of Scotsmen as a rule 
as Catholics, 

When I came out I met a squad of English sol- 
diers coming from church, their sergeants walking 
alongside swinging their canes. And at 6.30, 
when I came home, I heard English hymns being 
sung. I stopped under the voute of the H6tel 
de Ville to listen. The English have a room 
there, and service twice a day for their soldiers 
and nurses. The men's voices sounded very well 
in the perfectly still, dark night. 

We never go out at night. No civilians are 
allowed in the streets after 9.30 o'clock. I stopped 
at the patissiere's one morning to order some cakes 
for tea, and found there three young Tommies 
trying to get something to drink. They couldn't 
understand the woman, and the woman couldn't 
understand them. But she divined that they 
were himgry, and gave them each a small brioche 
which they didn't want. I came to the rescue, 
asking what they wanted: "Something to drink, 
Madame; we have been travelling since 12 o'clock 



36o MY WAR DIARY 

yesterday, and have had nothing to eat or drink." 
"What do you want? Beer, whisky?" "Oh, 
no, Madame, tea; but we can't get it." I asked 
the woman if she couldn't give them some tea 
and bread and butter, but she hadn't any tea, 
only chocolate and cakes, and was, besides, ex- 
pecting British officers to breakfast; had an 
elaborate table spread with cakes and jam. 

They looked so disappointed that I thought I 
would carry them off to the cafe of our hotel, 
where they would surely get something; so I told 
them to come with me, and we all walked off to- 
gether. "I think you must be an English lady, 
Madame, as you are wearing the English Red 
Cross medal." "No, I am not English, but I 
love the soldiers, and all my men are fighting." 

We walked on very amicably; one or two 
passers-by looked rather amused at the party, 
and they tried to tell me where they had come 
from, but their British pronunciation of French 
names made it impossible for me to understand. 

When we got to the cafe I told the patronne 
to give them a good breakfast, saying to them: 
"But don't you want more than bread and but- 
ter? Would you like some ham and eggs?" 
"Oh, yes, Mum," with a broad smile on each 
young face. They thanked me very nicely and 
respectfully, and I left them in Mme. M.'s hands. 

I found Francis and Captain S. having tea with 
Charlotte when I got to the villa. Francis was 



WITH THE BRITISH 361 

very hungry and rather tired, having ridden I 
don't know how many miles with some of his 
officers, inspecting cabarets (taverns). It seems 
there have been one or two cases of diphtheria in 
their cantonnement, which the doctors thought 
might come from drinking out of dirty glasses; 
so they visited all the cabarets in the neighbour- 
hood, inspecting mugs and glasses, and threaten- 
ing the old women who kept them with all sorts 
of punishments if they weren't cleaner and more 
careful. Some of the ladies were so irritated and 
so voluble that even Francis found it difficult to 
deal with them : such a flow of patois, half French, 
half Flemish, that he couldn't always understand 
them. However, the great point was that they 
should understand him. 

His life is not always very interesting, but it 
is a change from the trenches and carrying des- 
patches, and I think it is just as well to see every 
side of the war. 

He is astounded at the British equipment; 
such wonderful organisation, and such abundance 
of everything. They had had a "church parade" 
on Sunday, which he said was most impressive, 
in a half -ruined church — almost the whole roof 
off, windows gone, floor too, in places. The 
padre (as they call all the priests and clergymen) 
brought a small harmonium with him, which Fran- 
cis played. They gave him a book, as of course 
he doesn't know the English hymns; and he said 



362 MY WAR DIARY 

the men sang very well. They finished with 
"God Save the King." He was in a deadly 
terror lest he and the harmonitim should topple 
over, the floor was so rickety; but they got 
through all right. 

He and Captain L. brought me home. It is 
about twelve minutes' walk to the hotel, and he 
went back with S. to dine at the mess. There 
were a great many British officers dining at the 
hotel that night, and three or four enterprising 
spirits burst into our little private dining-room, 
possibly in search of an adventure of some kind, 
hearing women's voices — and one couldn't blame 
them for that at Hazebrouck. I think the sight 
of the two grandmothers rather quieted them, 
and they beat a hasty retreat, without having 
had time to get a glimpse of the young aunt. 

The hotel is just opposite the gare, and is 
always full. It is a typical provincial hotel, with 
fairly good rooms, high and light, with wonderful 
furniture. Mme. S. has a remarkable couvre-lit, 
a sort of snuffy brown, on her bed, but the beds 
are perfectly clean and comfortable, and the 
wooden floor is washed once a week. The stair- 
case is perfectly dark, but when we come down 
to dinner at 7 o'clock, a small bedroom candle- 
stick is placed on the flat end of the banisters, 
which gives a faint twinkle of light. The court- 
yard is covered, and at one end there is a double 
washstand, with one or two towels hanging from 



WITH THE BRITISH 363 

a peg, and always before meals there are two or 
three Tommies in shirt-sleeves having a good 
wash. I should think no one ever stayed in the 
hotel but commis voyageurs. They have cer- 
tainly never had people of our class before, and 
our ways and wants are very wonderful to them. 
It is kept by two women, and all the service is 
done by women. There is one old maitre d'h6tel, 
but he doesn't sleep in the house, so at 10.30 they 
take off the bell and don't answer the door. 

We hear violent knocking sometimes between 
10.30 and 12, and very strong language in un- 
mistakable Anglo-Saxon tones, but no one takes 
any notice. The hotel sltimbers peacefully on 
until the next morning. 

Every now and then we see two motor-cars 
dashing through the town at break-neck speed, 
the one behind with a red f anion means a general's 
car, his aide-de-camp in front. The Tommies all 
range themselves on one side and stand at atten- 
tion. 

C. and I made a most unsuccessful shopping 
expedition the other day, couldn't get any of the 
numerous things we wanted; a screen, a bath- 
tub, a pair of thick boots for Willy, a waterproof 
also for Willy. As usual, the English came to 
our help, and a bathtub was sent up from Bou- 
logne or one of their military bases. 

The townspeople are very civil and most ser- 
viceable, but they are a little bewildered by the 



364 MY WAR DIARY 

British occupation and all the things the English 
want which the French soldier knows nothing of. 

Everybody knows us as we are the only strangers 
in the place. 

I had a visit the other day from Mile, de B., 
the type of the good old French bourgeoise, with 
a very polite, old-fashioned manner. She has a 
charming house in the rue de I'Eglise, one of the 
best streets in the town, with a beautiful garden at 
the back, and pretty, heavy, old-fashioned furni- 
ture in her rooms. Almost all her house is taken 
by British officers. She is Presidente de la Croix 
Rouge for this part of the country, and also of the 
Belgian Relief Committee. She had seen my 
name on one of the Franco- American Belgian 
committees, and came to see if I could put her 
in touch with the Paris committee. They have 
quantities of refugees here, and among them 
civilian wounded, women and children. 

I thought I had seen every stage of refugee 
misery at Mareuil, with those first miserable 
bands that passed through our villages the first 
year of the war, but there were no wounded. I 
saw a group of refugees, women and children 
from Armentieres, the other day — six women, 
young, strong, not over thirty, and a little girl of 
eight — each with a leg off, hit by a fragment of 
shell. They had no crutches, not even canes, 
merely sticks, like what the boys cut in the woods, 
with a notch at one end to prevent them from 



WITH THE BRITISH 365 

slipping ! They looked utterly miserable, hud- 
dled together in a corner of the place. It made 
one ill to see them. Happily it was not cold, 
nor raining. 

I said to one of the women: **Why did you 
stay? You were warned to leave as any day 
Armentieres would be bombarded." "But, Ma- 
dame, where can we go? It is our home, our only 
home; no one wants us here or anywhere. We 
have no clothes, no food, no shelter !" It is per- 
fectly true. They don't want them in the towns. 
They have already more than they can take care 
of. 

Another woman said: "I don't complain, Ma- 
dame, I have only lost a leg. I am a washerwoman 
and can still stand at my tub and use my arms. 
There are others worse off than me — ^but I would 
like a pair of crutches." 

Mile. D. says the town is doing all it can, but 
they must have some help. 

Happily the British occupation is pouring money 
into Hazebrouck. The soldiers of all ranks don't 
deprive themselves of anything, and pay well for 
all they want. One of the girls at the Bazaar in 
the Place, a sort of general shop where you can 
get anything, from tennis-rackets to fine Flemish 
lace, told us she had learned English quite well, 
so as to be able to understand what the soldiers 
wanted. Said she liked the Australians very 
much—* ' de beaux gars. ' ' They all had money, all 



366 MY WAR DIARY 

wanted to spend it, and buy presents for their 
girls at home. 

We assisted at one of the purchases which was 
most amusing. A very good-looking young Aus- 
tralian was buying a handkerchief edged with 
lace. He was very particular about the lace, 
that it should be good, pas imitation, and wanted 
it put in a white box tied with a ribbon. He paid 
for it, and carried it off under his arm. The girl 
told us they had sold dozens of fine handkerchiefs 
and cravates trimmed with lace. 

These warriors from over the sea are evidently 
most amiably disposed toward all the jeunesse 
feminine. When I came into the hdtel one after- 
noon, five or six soldiers — Tommies and Anzacs — 
were sitting on benches outside the cafe. Quite 
a pretty girl came along, carrying rather a heavy 
basket. The soldiers all smiled up at her, crowded 
nearer together on the bench making a place for 
her to sit down, saying, "Bon jour, Mamzelle, 
asseoir!" But the girl laughed and nodded and 
passed on. I had the impression though that she 
had sometimes accepted invitations to asseoir. 

They are a cheerful lot, always whistling and 
singing, and so pleased to talk to any one who 
will talk to them. I fancy they are like the Ameri- 
can cowboys — perhaps not quite so rough in their 
language. They are generally tall, fair, clean- 
shaven, with nice blue eyes. They are all vol- 
unteers as there is no compulsory service yet in 



WITH THE BRITISH 367 

Australia, though I suppose it will come, as I 
think it will come in all countries after this dread- 
ful war. There are all sorts and conditions of 
men, just as there are in our Territorials. One 
of Francis' colonels is a leading lawyer in Mel- 
bourne. 

We talked one day to some of the men who 
had been fighting on the Somme. They said it 
was awful. They don't like the trenches and the 
long-distance guns where the man fires mechani- 
cally at something he doesn't see. The shells, 
at least, they can see and protect themselves 
sometimes ! 

They don't like the Germans and their way of 
fighting. An angry look comes into their boyish 
blue eyes when they tell you of some of the Ger- 
man atrocities. 

We hear the cannon very regularly, but not so 
distinctly as at Mareuil. No one minds. They 
say they don't mind even when an enemy avion 
appears; all run out into the middle of the street. 

I think it is the windiest place I ever was in. 
We get a fierce blast every time we cross the 
place. We are quite sheltered in our villa. The 
garden is really charming, so well arranged that 
one sees a great distance over green meadows and 
what they call here forests. To us, accustomed 
to the splendid forests near us, Villers-Cotterets, 
Compiegne, etc., it seems a very ambitious name 
for the few clumps of trees that dot the horizon. 



368 MY WAR DIARY 

We often have visitors at tea-time; and the 
men tell Charlotte her salon looks very inviting 
with its lamps and red table-cloth. 

Sometimes we have unexpected visitors. Reg- 
gie Hunt and a brother officer appeared the other 
day and thought we looked quite comfortable. 
He had inquired at the station if Mme. Wadding- 
ton was in Hazebrouck. (He had seen me in the 
street one day when he was passing through — 
couldn't believe it was me; hadn't time then to 
stop.) They told him, certainly, Mme. Wadding- 
ton was here, living with the *' Town-Major," 
which sounds queer. They both had very large 
newspaper parcels; had been shopping. They 
are stationed, I think, at St. Omer. 

Another day we had Henry Outrey, looking very 
well. He is just named interpreter with an Eng- 
lish brigade; says the officers are charming. He 
was going somewhere; he didn't know where, the 
next day. It was nice to see him and go back 
to old happy October days in Mareuil, when no 
war nor rumours of wars darkened the horizon. 

Everybody stops and talks to the child when 
his bed is drawn close to the window. His gram- 
ophone (awful things, I think) is a great joy to 
him and his friends. We went for a drive one 
day, but we couldn't go more than a mile out of 
town without a sauf-conduit. What we saw of 
the country was not very pretty — low meadows, 
a long, straight road with the usual line of poplars 



WITH THE BRITISH 369 

on each side. Our driver didn't seem to find it 
very pretty either, as he brought us back into the 
town and showed us the beauties of Hazebrouck. 
A camp — ^near one of the hospitals with tents and 
flags, and always a little patch of flowers, looked 
rather pretty. Every building of any importance 
is occupied by the British, with a large Union 
Jack; British soldiers at the door and all sorts 
of mysterious letters which I couldn't understand. 
The boys know them" all. I think I did master 
R. F. C. (Royal Flying Corps). 

The aviators looked a fine energetic lot of young 
men. The Francises have seen some rather in- 
teresting air chases; British avions chasing Ger- 
mans, only they fly so high it is rather difficult 
to follow all the movements. 

I am thinking of going back to Paris, and have 
sent in my demand with all my papers to get out 
of Hazebrouck, which seems almost as difficult 
as to get in. I rather dread the long journey, 
but it is not very cold yet, and Mme. S. and 
Madeleine will come too, as they are obliged to 
be in Paris a few days on business. 

We have decided to leave on Monday the 17th. 
The child is getting on well, and I feel I leave him 
in very good hands. I shall miss the tea in the 
winter garden, and the coming and going of tall 
British soldiers at the other end of the veranda. 

Willy went hare-hunting the other day with 
some of the British officers, and had a blissful 



370 MY WAR DIARY 

afternoon. His young eyes saw the hare first, 
always, and he and the dogs went mad with ex- 
citement until they were allowed to start in pur- 
suit. They ran through ploughed fields, over 
ditches and fences, but didn't get the hare. He 
was covered with mud up to his eyes when he 
came in. 

We have said good-bye to all our friends (I think 
they will miss us in the shops) and taken our last 
dark walk across the place, I wonder if I shall 
ever see Hazebrouck again ? I suppose not, and 
with time it will be confoimded with the other 
war memories. They are not all sad and grey. 
The sun breaks through the clouds sometimes, 
when one hears of splendid acts of bravery and 
endurance in the trenches — and the hand-to-hand 
struggles. Or among the civilians in the villages 
in the war zone, where the women and children 
are doing men's work in the fields and the farms, 
helping each other, and sending all they can to 
their men at the front. 

In a village near ours a girl of thirteen is run- 
ning the farm. At the beginning of the war it 
was a thriving farm with a man and his wife, 
six sons and one daughter. Then the blow fell, 
and all the men in France were mobilised; the 
father and his two eldest boys went off at once — 
four hours after the decree of mobilisation was 
received in the village. The farmer had no time 
to put his house in order, but left the farm in 



WITH THE BRITISH 371 

the hands of his wife and the two big boys, aged 
fifteen and sixteen. The man and his two eldest 
sons are killed — the two next are in the army — 
the poor mother a wreck physically and mentally, 
can do nothing, cries all day. The whole work of 
the farm is done by the girl and the two little 
boys. The little one can't do much, is only ten 
years old, but he can keep the cows and carry 
cans of milk or baskets of butter. 

I see the girl sometimes; she looks and is per- 
fectly well; never complains; never asks for 
anything, except occasionally a warm petticoat 
or a hood to keep her head and neck warm and 
dry when she is working in the fields. 

There are hundreds of girls doing that work 
all over France. 

We made our home journey quite comfortably, 
once we got started, but there was a great crowd 
and confusion at the gare. We went early, and 
one of the officers took us to a small room or 
bureau of some kind where we could wait quietly 
until our papers were examined. There were a 
great many people in the room talking and ask- 
ing for information of all kinds, principally Eng- 
lish, but they didn't really talk loud or make 
much noise. 

A blue-coated French sergeant, seated at a ta- 
ble rather peremptorily told people to be quiet, 
not to talk. I was rather astonished, and said to 
the man: **Why mustn't they talk? They are 



372 MY WAR DIARY 

not noisy!'* "On account of the English, Ma- 
dame, this is their bureau, and they don't like 
any one to talk." 

Our carriage as far as Boulogne was full of 
young British, Australian, and Canadian officers 
going on leave to England. Some of the Aus- 
tralians had never seen London, and were most 
excited at the idea, and so afraid they would miss 
the boat at Boulogne, as we were late, of course. 
They were all very gay, telling all sorts of stories. 
They had a great deal to say about the padres, 
for whom they seemed to have a great respect; 
said some of them were so human. One had 
preached a splendid sermon one day, and remained 
afterward talking to the men, still reminding 
them that at any time their lives might be asked 
of them, and they must give them willingly for 
their country. They all agreed, and one young 
fellow said: ''All right, Padre, we'll all play the 
game when the times comes; but it isn't for to- 
night. Come and have a drink!" "Yes, I will 
with pleasure," said the padre, and a good long 
drink he took, and then they all sang "God Save 
the King," and felt very happy and cheerful. 

We passed again through the long lines of bar- 
raques and tents that reach almost to Amiens. 
At every station there were British soldiers and 
nurses. It seemed almost strange at Amiens to 
go out of the British atmosphere. 

The Gare du Nord was crowded with blue- 



WITH THE BRITISH 373 

coated soldiers coming home on a permission de 
huit jours, all smiling and pleased to be back, 
looking out so eagerly for their womankind, who, 
they knew, were waiting for them at the station 
— ^wives and children standing for hours in the 
long line to catch their first glimpse of their hero 
from the Somme; the children crowding around 
**papa,'* and carrying his bag or his bundle. 

It is tragic to think how many '* papas'* will 
never come back, and that we can do nothing 
for any of our men at the front. All our prayers 
and tears are unavailing if the decree has gone 
forth and their lives must be given for their 
country. 



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